All the Things I Hate About You
by whitetyger123
Summary: With a job lined up in America, how could Arthur say no? Maybe the small detail about having to deal with a perverted Frenchman would have changed his mind. France/England, written by me and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture AU, rated M for YAOI and other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

Francis put down his glass of wine. It was a strange drink for the local bar, but one that he loved. "Ah, _mon petit _Gilbert, I assure you I could bed any man in this place."

Antonio smirked in his glass. "This again? Why do we get into this discussion every time we get drunk?"

His question was ignored by Gilbert, however. "Alright, if you can fuck any guy in here, then..." scarlet eyes roamed the bar, and smiled an evil smile when he saw a very drunk, upset and angry looking blond by the counter. "screw him tonight."

The Frenchman smiled. "If you wanted to give me a challenge, you should have picked the fat man in the corner. But that blond one looks delectable." He stood up and started walking over there.

Antonio stopped him. "Wait, you need to get a picture for proof."

"Ah, _oui_, are you still having problems with your cute boyfriend, and need some relief?" He laughed, managing to make his voice sound like roses.

"Bloody New York... What an excuse for a city! Where's the history? Where's the culture? No where; that's where. It's just an urban sprawl of nothing but concrete supported by lies. New York my arse. Good old York beats this shite hole any day. After all, England is far superior then _America_," Arthur continued his winded rant to the whiskey glass he had been nursing for a few minutes. He had already been sitting on the same barstool for a few hours, and had gone through more glasses then he cared to count. "and don't even get me started on driving. For a country that believes in individuality so much, why aren't they zipping around in hovercrafts by now? Because they are all incompetent fools." With that, he brought the glass to this lips, tilting back and downing it in one go.

Grazing the blond's back lightly with a practised hand Francis sat down beside him. "_Bonjour_, it looks like your glass is getting empty there. Let me buy you another one?"

Looking over to the person who sat beside him, Arthur pounded his fist on the counter. "You bloody better offer to. Judging by your abhorrent accent you must be French. That alone deserves at least two, frog." He then pushed the now empty glass in front of him.

Francis shot Gilbert and Antonio a glare to see they were laughing and banging on the table, obviously having heard that the blond was English. He forced a smile. "Why yes, I am French. So what are you drinking there?" He managed to not add rosbif on the end of his question.

"Whiskey on the rocks. And it better be the good stuff you're getting me!" The Briton added drunkenly, glaring once more at the offending man who was still sitting beside him. Just what was his deal, sitting there all calm? If he had the proper decency, he would buy Arthur the drinks then make himself sparse.

He got the drink while grinding his teeth. He would have left, if not for the bet. Of course, they had made no real rules, nothing he got if he won, and nothing he had to do if he lost, so he _could_ just leave now... When he handed the glass to the already drunk man, the blond looked up at him with green eyes and a flushed face from too much alcohol. Alright, so maybe him finishing the bet would be his prize. "_Voil__à_."

Letting his face slip into a momentary smile, he then brought the drink to his lips once again and limited himself to a sip. Well, at least for that time. If the conniving Frenchman acted anything like his countries people, his body was literally in danger of being molested. Not that he would mind too much at this point... If it wasn't for the fact he was so bloody _- attractive, _his mind purred- daft he would have jumped him right there and then. Bloody frog. "You know what?" He asked after another swig of the golden liquid.

Slightly dreading the answer, Francis asked, "What?" His voice sounding like silk in the noisy bar. He had worked on making his voice so attractive in such an atmosphere for a while, although if anyone complimented him on it he had a practised air of humbleness.

Arthur stared at the man's lips for a moment till he realized he had actually answered. Shaking his head lightly, he then unceremoniously downed all the alcohol, wincing slightly at the burn. "You've been here a while, I presume? In America, that is." Even completely plastered his vocabulary surpassed those of most Americans.

"_Oui_, I have been here since I was 20. _Et toi_?" He ordered a glass of champagne, another of his favourite drinks.

"A few weeks, at the very least." He looked expectantly at the blond man before he called the bartender for another drink. Grabbing onto it as if it would run away if he didn't, Arthur started poking the ice cubes absentmindedly. "What happened to you then? Escaped the assimilating melting pot better known as the United States? I'm amazed you survived."

Francis gave a laugh. Now that this Englishman had seemed to calm down a little, he wasn't so bad. "I assume by that, you don't like it here. Why, then, are you here at all?" It was obvious they both weren't too interested in the conversation, but it was how this country works. Perhaps in France you can tell someone that you wish to bed them, but here it was different.

At that, the Briton responded with his own drunken laugh. "You know the deal: A friend and a job. Couldn't pass up a guaranteed salary in these tough times even if it did mean going somewhere with no taste." Gulping down more than half the glass, he then smiled wearily at the strange man, his face flushing with alcohol.

"Yes, I suppose." 'Being English, he would know a thing or two about no taste' he said in his mind. When the sexy blond wobbled in his chair, Francis reached over to his glass. "Perhaps you've had enough. By the looks of it, you won't even be able to get home."

"Pah!" Arthur exclaimed, grabbing the glass back ferociously; a little spilling over the edge. "That'd be a waste of a perfectly good drink." Before the Parisian could take it back, he finished it in one go, smacking his lips after he did.

"If you've got nothing better than to question my drinking habits, buy me another and leave. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself." Even with his strong words, he had started to slur a bit. He was also starting to have a mental battle between himself: his rational side said to just walk away and ignore the wine-faced git, but the stronger, extremely inebriated side said to just snog the blond man silly right there and then.

Francis laughed a little and put his chin delicately in his hand. Now to start working his magic. "You'll be perfectly fine? Then tell me, what is the address of your place so you can get a taxi tonight?"

Arthur just stared for a few seconds before answering, distracted somewhat by the strange man's charisma. Not that he was jealous, mind you. "Somewhere in bloody New York that's where I live. I don't need a taxi, I'll find it by sheer intuition."

"Well, unless you can give your driver this intuition, I doubt your going to find your way home tonight. Because there is no way you can drive like you are right now." Francis marvelled at his own brilliance. If Mr. Drunk couldn't get home, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to take him to the nearest hotel. And, if he actually remembered his address, than he would just _have_ to take him home. To avoid an accident, of course. With the added bonus of winning the bet.

Pushing down his alcohol induced lust, Arthur just sneered. "Who ever said I was driving? I walked the whole bloody way here, I can walk back."

"Oh, this should be interesting." Perhaps being slightly drunk made Francis a sadist, but he wanted to see the sexy blond fall. He really did. "Why don't you try walking over to me." He stood up and back a few steps, glad there weren't too many people around for this sure-to-be catastrophe.

He just watched as the suave man got off his seat and open his arms slightly, inviting him to walk. Standing up himself, he swayed slightly, gripping onto the counter with a vice-like hands. "I would if you would stop moving!" By now, his vision had started to double and spin slightly.

"I'm not moving at all. Also, there is only one of me, in case you were wondering." Francis stood there with his arms open, waiting to catch the wobbling blond.

"Fine." The Briton muttered, his thick eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. "Just... I'll show you. I don't need some fucking frog to help me." Letting go of the counter in an act of bravery, he then took a few steps. Still standing, he let himself smirk at the _-ravishing-_ blond across the room and continued to walk.

After not even three steps, the Englishman fell forward. Francis caught him in a smooth motion, even though he himself was partially drunk. "And you expect to walk beside cars along this busy road?"

"They'll just have to avoid me..." He managed to mumble as his face flared bright red. Being held up by the blond had made him more embarrassed than he would have ever admitted to. Pressed against the Parisian's chest, he could feel the heat radiating from it through the fine silk shirt he was wearing, making his blood fight between going to his face or somewhere farther south.

"Hm, yes, that must be the only way. Unfortunately, I have a strange compulsion to not let people as sexy as you die in a tragic car accident. Been that way since childhood, I'm afraid, so you're not going to make me change."

Finally realizing just what he was doing, Arthur managed to push himself away from the embrace. "You're just looking for a quick shag aren't you?" He asked matter-of-fact. Although he was trying to appear serious, the fact that he was swaggering didn't help.

"Perhaps. The world just isn't filled with enough love _pour moi_, I'm afraid. But, are you not here for the same reason?" Francis smiled and tilted his head slightly. Since it was obvious that the blond wasn't one for romance, he decided going off about him being the love of his life wasn't a good idea.

Contemplating the question for a second due to being more preoccupied with the man's lips then what he actually said, he shook his head once more to clear the thoughts. "It wasn't my original intention." Shrugging, Arthur walked back to the barstool he was sitting on with a bit of difficulty and grabbed his jacket. Noticing that Mr. Frenchman had stayed still, he added, "but it doesn't mean I'm not open to the idea. As long as I'm drunk enough not to remember sleeping with some snail-eating git, I'll go for it."

Forcing a smile, Francis nodded. "Alright then. I'll just go say _au revoir _to my friends and we can go." He went back to the table where Gilbert and Antonio were still laughing over their alcohol. "Well, I must go have sex with a very drunk man in a cheap hotel, because he is much too drunk to know the difference." He picked up Gilbert's drink and finished it off in one gulp. "Say hello to your brother for me." He said to the fightsy German with a wink.

"Dammit, I don't have a brother complex!"

Both Francis and Antonio rolled their eyes. The Frenchman went to go join the wobbly blond at the door.

Arthur watched as the man said goodbye to his 'friends', licking his lips unconsciously at the thought of what was to come. Truth be told, he had originally gone to the bar just to get piss drunk and forget about the fact that his friend had somehow managed to get him a good enough deal to get him to move to the United States. With that, he had also hoped that someone would pay homage on him and help pay for a taxi to get him home. Or if worse came to worse he'd just end up staying the night in the local drunk tank and make his way home from there.

"So now where to? I highly doubt someone of your playboy calibre would settle for an alley-fuck." The Englishman stated bluntly, the whiskey taking any hidden meanings out of this thought process.

"Well of course not." Francis said, even though he had had a few of those. Well, more than a few, truth be told. "There is a hotel near here. I think even you could walk there, with my help of course."

"A hotel, hm? Am I not good enough for your house, mystery man?" He muttered as he followed after the man in question. "Just what is your name anyways?"

"Ah, but that would spoil the fun. With no names, it stays a mystery, and isn't that divine?" Francis said, looping one arm around the blond's waist to keep him upright. With one night stands, he found it better without names. Then they couldn't find you afterwards if they were the stalker type. "On to the hotel!"

Blushing again from the contact, Arthur just grumbled. "You better be a bloody good lay for wasting my drinking time." He would never say it, but anyone would be good after only having his hand for a few long years.

"Oh, I'm sure I will be more than enough." Francis rolled his eyes to the sky. This rosbif was really getting on his nerves. But, for the sake of the bet, his reputation, and claiming that perfect ass for himself, he would grin and bear it.

Staying silent, he just continued to let the man lead him in the direction of the hotel they were apparently going to. Occasionally he would stumble, causing Mr. Frenchman to tighten the grip on his waist. By the time they had gotten to the foyer of the hotel, Arthur had resumed his drunken ramblings. "Stupid bloody frog for being so damn attractive! I would have never let some wine swilling bastard do this; it must be something in the air. How else would it explain it?" His words slowly became less and less enunciated, turning into more of a growl then any coherent thoughts.

Francis smiled at his thoughts. 'Well I _am_ pretty attractive. You shouldn't blame yourself, many people have fallen to my charm.' But of course if he actually said this, the Englishman surely would have refused to go any further, the stubborn man. So instead he steered him into a chair while he asked for a room from the cute brunette behind the counter.

Arthur just stayed sitting in the chair, grumbling all the while. Watching as he talked to the person behind the counter, he stood up quickly. After blacking out for a second, he stumbled back over to the blond and sneered at the employee. "Give him the key already so we can screw and get this over with."

He just smiled seductively at the brunette. "Well, _merci_ for the discount, Feliciano." Francis turned around with the key and had to catch his one-night stand that had been about to do a nose dive into the counter.

Instead of letting the dark blue eyed stranger lead him, Arthur grabbed the arm that was around him and pulled it off, marching determinedly to the elevator. Once they were in, the Parisian man opened his mouth as if to ask what he was doing, but was promptly cut off as Arthur threw his arms around his neck and attacked it with his own.

* * *

Hope everyone liked the first chapter! There will be more to follow!


	2. Chapter 2

Delightedly surprised, Francis moved his mouth with the other one, a sensual dance. Mr. Blondy stuck out his tongue, trying for dominance, but we couldn't have that, now. He lifted his hand up and ran it through the short blond hair, grabbed some and tugged. The Englishman gave a small gasp, and Francis took the chance to force his wet tongue into the waiting mouth, tasting alcohol and... parsley? He didn't much mind the combination, however, as he continued exploring the warm cavern. That is, until the door binged open and there were two old ladies with very wide eyes staring at them in surprise.

With a tinge to his cheeks, Arthur pulled away and looked at the intruders. Too drunk to care, he glared at the older women and gave them the finger. "Bugger off."

Francis pushed the blond away and went up to the ladies. "Je suis très désolé. Mais je ne comprends pas l'anglais_. Au revoir!"_ He started dragging the swearing man away to their room. "Let's get to the room before you start a war between the US and everyone else, shall we?"

"Whatever." Now, he just wanted sex. It was too bothersome to stay politically correct with anyone that crossed their paths. Grabbing the suave man again, he continued snogging with him, secretly glad that his night had turned out the way it had.

With trouble, Francis pulled away reluctantly. "What did I just say about making it to the room?" Fuck, he was loosing his self-control. Was it this door? He quickly fumbled with the keys while Mr. Not-so-gentlemanly-Englishman sucked on his neck, already working with the buttons on his silk shirt. "And here I was thinking English people were a bunch of prudes."

"Hah." He laughed quietly, an approving growl deep in his chest at revealing the deliciously pale skin. "You obviously don't know the British. Although I wouldn't put it past you narcissistic French that only pay attention to someone other than themselves if they can get to bed with them." Arthur muttered in between licks and sucks to the fine skin; leaving behind a variety of red marks.

Finally getting the annoying door open, Francis stumbled backwards, managing to keep upright while steadying the blond. "Alright, your shirt is coming off." He yanked off the stark white button up shirt, not wanting to deal with the buttons. Once the garment was off, he slipped an arm under the Englishman's legs and back, lifting him up. "Easier than you crawling to the bed."

As soon as he was lifted up, the drunk blond started to struggle against the hold. "I'm not bloody incompetent! I've walked all the way here, I can surely walk over the bed so we can fuck."

"Would have taken too long." Flinging the blond on the bed, Francis grabbed his pants by the ankles and tugged till they came off; bringing down his underwear at the same time. Then he rid himself of his own pants and jumped onto the bed as well.

Impatient as he always was -drunk or not-, Arthur reached over and continued undoing the other's shirt. His drunk hands fumbled a bit on the buttons, making him just give up and rip the shirt off. "Bloody buttons..." He muttered against the pale skin of the Frenchman's neck.

Grabbing onto the semi-hard cock, Francis ran his thumb over the head. In a few seconds it was rock hard. He then smiled when Mr. English moaned into his neck at the touch. Then he moved his head to the smooth chest and grabbed a hold of one perk nipple with his teeth.

"Bloody hell!" Arthur exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut at the touch. Opening them again, he grabbed onto the man's waist, rocking against the hand. "Y-your stubble is going to give me a rash."

Letting go of the pink flesh, Francis smiled. "Deal with it." Then he made open-mouthed kisses all the way from his chest to the very start of light hair. That was where he stopped. He looked up the perfectly pale skin to those half-lidded eyes. "Do you want me to continue?" He smiled, looking both sensual and evil at the same time.

Glaring down hazily at the mouth that was just centimetres from his prick, Arthur retorted. "What the bloody hell do you think, wine bastard?" Sure, under most circumstances he wouldn't be so vile to the person who was about to suck him, but he was drunk, and the other was French. Never a good combination.

"That was neither a yes or a no. How will I possibly know if you want my mouth _ici_ if you don't tell me?" Francis said while lightly tracing a vein with his finger up the entire length of the cock in front of his face.

Somehow resisting the urge to just rut himself against the face by his crotch, Arthur instead just let out a sound of annoyance. "Go to hell, frog. That was a bloody yes if you didn't get it; and stop speaking French. As much as you want to believe it, French is nowhere near the 'language of love'." The few minutes of foreplay had already worn his patience thin, even if it wasn't too long of a wait.

"_Alors pourquoi devient-il plus grand le plus Français que je parle?_" Francis smiled. Judging by the fact that the cock he kissed lightly had gotten even larger when he had said that, he could tell that the Englishman knew at least a little French. He took the head into his mouth only, holding the hips so they couldn't buck up. He liked being in control of his blow jobs.

Growling, the Briton fisted the sheets as the wavy haired man sucked viciously on the head of his cock. As with most things, he would never admit to actually understanding some French. Being infatuated with the English language had led him to studying the various origins of words, most of which were French. Still horribly impatient, he then reached down, twisting his fingers in the fine hair and pushed down. As much as he liked blow jobs, he just wanted to get to the main act and get out of here.

Annoyed with the insisting hands on his head pushing him onto the hard shaft, Francis grazed the skin with his teeth harder than should be pleasurable for most people. He could hear his night-lover grit his teeth and his hands loosened up. Then his mind started going to other things. With the pants he had been wearing today, it had been impossible to fit in his little bottle of lube. It was very unlikely that the blond had any. He lifted his head up for a second. "What about lube?"

"Saliva." Arthur grunted, trying desperately to either get the blond to suck him again but harder or just simply thrust deeply into his throat. Seeing him lose his cool composer would make him happier than he was at the moment. "Just... Suck me off or start getting ready."

Saliva? Alright, he could do that. Francis smiled as he bent back down, not to the straining manhood but instead to the hole a little lower. He lifted up the round ass with his hands so he could get to it, and he flicked his tongue over it, getting the surface nice and wet. Above him, there was a surprised groan. Pushing his tongue through the tight ring of muscles, he twirled it around a small bit, getting as much saliva as possible there.

Unsuccessfully, the Englishman tried pushing away from the tongue, only to be pulled back. "What do you think you're doing?!" All but yelling, he continued to thrash away from the embrace; hitting his head against the headboard in the process. Groaning, he rubbed his head as he finally got away from the invasive appendage. "Who said I'm bottoming?"

Francis gave a small laugh. "You're joking, right?" With that he took hold of the others hips and flipped him over on his stomach. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He whispered sensually into the Englishman's ear. Quickly he ripped open a condom and put it on. He had no clue who this blond was, after all.

Just about to lash out again, Arthur shivered instead as warm air was blown across his ear. Bloody Parisians, thinking they could do what ever they want, whenever. "You better make it good then, frog." In most of his relationships, he had in fact been the 'girl'. Although it would have been a nice change to pound into the wine-faced git's arse since he obviously hadn't had much up there, he allowed himself to get the pleasure. Because of it though, he had no intention of helping him finish. None at all.

Putting two fingers into the puckered entrance, Francis scissored them to make room for the third. He licked along the line in the middle of the blond's back, liking the look of the curve. When he added the third finger, the Englishman mewled in pleasure.

"I-I'm ready... Just put it in already!" Arthur grumbled, trying to ignore the small sounds escaping from his alcohol loosened tongue. Pushing back against the fingers, he tried to ignore the erotic way the short stubble rubbed across his sensitive back. "I doubt you're even that big." That was it. If he didn't slam into him that instant, Arthur didn't know what else to do to provoke him.

Well then, if he wanted it like that... Francis pulled out his fingers and took his cock in one hand, already impossibly hard. He placed it at the entrance and rocked forward, embedding himself in the tight warmth. Some mumbled French slipped out of his mouth at the feeling.

Moaning, the short-haired man pushed himself further onto the hard shaft; any pain erased by the previous glasses of whiskey. His entire body flushed as his back was kissed lightly. Who did the man think he was, treating him like a lover? They were just a one-night stand and that's all. "Move, bastard."

"Your wish is my command." Francis growled before he started to pound into the sexy Englishman who was moaning so wantonly beneath him. He then started ravishing the perfect neck, determined to leave his mark on a very visible part of his body. He sucked and fucked, licked and thrust, bit and loved. The last time he had sex this good would have had to be... at least two weeks ago.

Without boundaries, the green eyed blond allowed himself to be fucked throughly. His eyes clouded with pleasure as he continued to spew out random sounds from his mouth. Already, his heavy prick was bobbing between his legs in time with the thrusts. A bit of his precum had started dripping down the length of it.

Blindly turning his head, he then reached behind him for the Frenchman's hair and pulled it up to his own, joining their lips. Arthur started ravishing his mouth; using his tongue for the most part. Mr. French's mouth tasted faintly of the champagne he had at the bar as well as his individual taste he couldn't put a name to in his inebriated state.

While still thrusting and playing with their joined mouths, Francis balanced himself on one hand so he could start giving light but fast jerks to his partner's cock.

"I'll ad-admit that you're n-not that s-small." The Briton said between moans, unconsciously lifting his butt higher to give him a better angle to thrust. At that instant, his vision blanked for a moment as he shivered forcefully. With how fast and hard he was being thrust into, the pressure on his sweet spot made him scream for a second. Panting, he continued, "but th-that doesn't mean a-anything."

"I think this place would disagree." The Frenchman said with a particularly hard and deep thrust. He knew he was hitting just the right cluster of nerves when blondy cried out. He squeezed the bottom of the cock in his hand, not wanting the moaning man to cum just yet.

Glaring behind him with half-lidded eyes, Arthur growled deep in his chest. "What are you doing?" His brain was getting even more fuzzy from the sex. He just wanted to finish and get out of there.

"It just seemed like you were getting close." Francis said, and then the walls around his shaft tightened, making him let out a groan and a string of French. "_Ah, si bon. Tr__è__s bon, mon cher."_

With a smirk, he then tightened himself even more against the cock that was inside him. "Now can I cum, escargo bastard? Or are so egotistical that your pathetic pride can't let me?"

Ah, _merde_, Francis was getting close himself. And fuck the world if he would let himself cum before his partner. He released his grip on the cock and once again moved his hand along the length of it, while thrusting into him even faster to bring his own orgasm.

Yelling out at the increased speed, Arthur started rocking themselves together, contradicting his earlier thoughts. Before he could react, his vision went white for a second as he came hard. After his release on the Frenchman's hand and the bed below him, he could feel the thrusts become harder and more sporadic before stopping completely.

Francis pulled out, the condom full. He took it off and looked for a garbage. Luckily, the people that planned the room had anticipated this obviously, because there was one right beside the bed. "Well that was..." He stopped when he turned around. His partner for the night had his head on the mattress, eyes closed. He gave a small laugh and rearranged the blond so that his head was on the pillow and lying on the side. If he puked in his sleep, it wouldn't be good if he was on his back. Then he pulled up the blankets on them both. The picture could wait till morning.

* * *

Translations! _Je suis très désolé. Mais je ne comprends pas l'anglais____._ Au revoir! means I am very sorry, but I don't understand English. Good bye! And_Alors pourquoi devient-il plus grand le plus français que je parle?_ means Then why does this get bigger the more I speak French?


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur awoke the next day only to let out a loud groan. Just _why_ was God so cruel to him? It was as if the world was out to get him. Pulling the blankets around his head, he tried to block out the bright light that was streaming in from the window. His head was pounding, his stomach was churning and... His butt was hurting? What had _happened_ to him?

Wincing, the Briton pulled the blankets away from his face with a bit of difficulty to look around his room, or at least what he had thought was his room. Instead of looking around his semi-familiar apartment, he was greeted with the stark walls of a cheap hotel room. It was a three-star at best, judging by the monotonous theme and the 'painting' that was screwed to the wall just in case someone found it appealing enough to steal.

Just how did he end up here? He didn't remember anything from last night except for going to some random bar somewhat near his house with the intent of getting drunk. After the third or so glass, his memory had gotten fuzzy to the point of having no idea just why he was lying _naked_ in some sleazy hotel bed with his arse feeling uncomfortably sore.

Wait. Ignoring the headache that enveloped his brain, Arthur desperately tried to remember the following night. As soon as he thought he remembered something about some strange, blond man, he heard the distinct sound of the shower starting up.

The warm water washed all the acquired gunk off from the previous night. For a second, Francis simply stood under the spray. He scratched his chin, feeling his stubble. Then he got bored, so he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and put it to his mouth and started singing.

"Je veux te voir  
Dans un film pornographique  
En action avec ta bite  
Forme patatoes ou bien frites  
Pour tout savoir  
Sur ton anatomie  
Sur ton cousin Teki  
Et vos accessoires fetiches"

Hearing the singing coming from the bathroom, Arthur blanched. Was that _French_ he was hearing!? What the bloody hell had possessed him to sleep with a God-forsaken Parisian man?! Just what was being in New York doing to him? He had sworn that it was lowering his standards, and now he had proof!

Not wasting one second, he quickly got up from the bed, groaning from his all-over pain. He just grit his teeth and started looking over the small room for his clothes. It didn't take too long for him to find all of his clothes, except for his underwear. "Shite." He growled under his breath, looking around the room and under the bed hurriedly.

When he heard the water shut off, he swore under his breath again before just slipping on his trousers. As awkward as it was, it was better than actually having to see the obviously French man he had somehow decided to sleep with. Later he would blame it on being desperate, but right now he just wanted out of there. Without looking back, Arthur grabbed the rest of his belongings before all but running out of the room.

It took him longer than he wanted to wait for the elevator to take him down to the main floor. He barely waited for the elevator doors to open before running across the foyer; his hair still unkempt which probably gave the few people there the wrong idea -even thought it technically was the _right _idea, just not the one Arthur wanted to give. Once he was outside the hotel, he continued to run, taking his cell phone out of his pocket in the mean time.

Slightly out of breath, Arthur opened the phone and speed dialled the only number on his phone; the man who had brought him here in the first place. If he could blame anyone for last night's progression, it would be him. "Wake up you bloody wanker and tell me your address."

He heard the voice on the other end perk up when he realized just who was phoning. "No it is not because I miss you, it's because I have no bloody clue where I am except for the fact that I'm closer to your apartment."

After getting the address, he hung up without saying goodbye; his hangover not permitting him to listen to the man's obnoxiously loud voice so early. Flagging down a taxi, he just hoped the insufferable blond would respect the fact that he wouldn't hesitate to rip out his tongue if he bugged him too much.

Slipping inside the cab, Arthur muttered the address to the taxi driver as he pulled out from the curb. Seeing all the cars on right side of the road still made him slightly uneasy. It didn't take long to get to the area where his friend lived; recognizing it from his first few nights in America. The neighbourhood was nice and quaint, but still wasn't as luxurious as where he used to live in the United Kingdom.

When the driver stopped and looked over his shoulder expectantly, the Briton handed over a boring green bill and waited somewhat patiently for his change. Murmuring a quick "Thanks" he got out and looked up at the apartment complex. Going inside and taking the elevator, he got off and walked down the hall to the third door on the left. Knocking loudly, he tapped his foot as he waited for the door to open. Arthur just wanted to get to his apartment... Once he figured out just where that was.

When he heard the knock, Alfred got up and went to the door to great his friend. "Arty! What a pleasant surprise! Hey, why do you look like crap?"

"Pleasant surprise my arse. And I'll show you just what 'crap' looks like if you don't get me a cup of tea right now." Pushing his way past the bubbly blond, he collapsed on the couch in his living room and massaged his temples. If Alfred continued to talk, he would have to shut him up some violent way or another.

"Come on, like I have tea. I would rather throw it in the sea or something than drink that shit." He went in the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. "I wonder how much tea it would take to make the sea taste like tea..."

"Who bloody cares. But if you try giving me that _poison_ you call coffee, then you are sorely mistaken. I just want to know my address so I can go back home and sleep off this persistent hangover." As if to accentuate his point, he continued to massage his temples, his nerves getting more and more grated by the younger man's voice. Just why were they friends in the first place again? It wasn't as if there was anything remarkable about him, other than his optimistic personality and his blinding smile - Both which annoyed Arthur to no end. He also had an amazing ability to act somewhat A.D.D. and to forget almost everything as soon as he was told it.

"How am I supposed to know? I don't live there." Alfred leaned against the sink and looked at Arthur, this being the first time he had seen him not all prim and proper. "Hey, is that a... hickey?"

Blushing at the mention of the elusive 'last night', the Briton just snapped at Alfred. "It is _not_ a hickey! You're obviously more blind then you think you are. It's just... An awkward bruise. I fell out of bed and hit it... On the side table..." He could tell that his lie was lacking, but hopefully the fool would fall for it.

Nodding, Alfred gave a small laugh. "So who's bed did you fall out of?"

"Shut up!" He snapped again, standing up from the couch. "Why did I even bother coming here if all you were going to do was mock me?" His hands clenched in his flash of anger, but he exhaled slowly, releasing the tension from his body. "I figured you were the only other person who could help me, but I guess I thought wrong."

Still slightly pissed off with Alfred and his persistent headache, he then went back to the door and looked through his jacket. "I don't even know now why I came here. I should have realized that I had a piece of paper with my address on it in my pocket." To prove his point, he procured it from his jacket pocket and showed the American.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. Stay for breakfast. I have left over hamburger." He smiled, knowing that neither of them could cook well. "Or we could go next door. The guy that lives there isn't bad at cooking. He makes wicked pancakes."

"As much as raiding your poor neighbour's apartment and making him cook for us sounds appealing, I need to get home. You're voice is annoying the hell out of me and I don't know how long I'll last before I rip out your tongue with my hands." Being blunt was always a good way to go. "Now I'm going to go take another taxi home and drink as many cups of Earl Grey it takes to get rid of this hovering cloud of doom that seems to have settled on me ever since coming back to America."

"Ya... I think you've had that cloud since you were born, actually." He laughed when the English Gentleman glared at him and opened the door. "What, no hug?"

Arthur just continued to glare. "Go die." With that, he started walking down the hallway. He hadn't closed the door, because deep down he wanted the annoyingly taller blond to follow him. Even though he pretended to hate his guts, he would feel even worse knowing that he had no one in this bloody town he could call a friend. The strange man from last night didn't count one bit.

.oOo.

Sitting at the table in a nice, quiet café, Francis sipped an espresso. Finally Gilbert and Antonio showed up.

"So, where are the pictures?" Antonio asked, sitting down and taking the warm drink from the Frenchman.

"I didn't get any." Francis put his head down, showing remorse. When Gilbert was about to laugh and no doubt call him a failure as the God of _l'amour_, he looked up and reached into his coat. "But I _did_ get his underwear!"

* * *

Ok, so the song Francis was singing is a real song. It is called Je veux te voir and it is by Yelle. Here is the full translation.

Cuizinier (singer), with your little sex surrounded by red curls  
I can't believe you can think that you are wanted  
I can't understand it even in the dark,  
even if you keep your PJs tight  
Even if you guard your bathrobe, tight as a tailored T-shirt  
Keep your nightgown, it'll limit the bastard acts

I want to see you  
In a porno film  
In action with your cock  
Shape potatoes or fries  
To find out  
About your anatomy  
About your cousin Teki  
And your fetish gear

Cuizi, what is  
Your favourite position?  
Your Olympic performances  
But you do nothing orgasmic  
You are naked  
Under your apron  
Ready to draw your sword  
But tough luck

You dream of a neon Hummer  
Designed by Akroe  
But you have no license  
You always take the metro

Superstar for a night, your life'll return to normal  
No need for sunglasses to hide yourself  
You wait for your green card  
This is not lip service  
I've managed to make you  
One with my scanner  
Entrance is free tonight  
It's the only way to come  
Then we girls wandered  
Yeah, we're going to chippendales  
We had not planned to spend a night with the jokers  
We wanted to see their pecs, guys hung like bulls

Your posters of Lil' Jon cover those of Magic Johnson  
You're too crunk (crazy drunk) to slam dunk

Cuiziner, it's you who I want to see  
Who I want to see tonight  
Be ridiculed by a girl who raps better than you  
I only have 10 fingers  
not enough to count all of them in the room  
All these hairdressers like me who know you're only worth a hair

...Does anyone else think it is incredibly appropriate that song is in French?


	4. Chapter 4

After the weekend was finished along with his horrible hangover and memories of that unfortunate Friday night, the Englishman pulled on his suit jacket and adjusted his tie. Perfection was absolutely necessary for his first day of his new career in New York. Looking in the mirror one last time, Arthur sighed before exiting his apartment and locking the door.

He went through the motions of flagging down a cab, telling the driver the address that he had been memorizing all morning and waited. And waited. Arthur had wanted to make the best impression on his new boss that he had made sure that he would be arriving a few minutes early.

Paying the cab fee, he grabbed his briefcase off the seat beside him and got out. The building itself was large, as with most in the core of the city. Taking another deep breath, he pushed the revolving doors and went up to the main desk.

"Hello, my name is Arthur Kirkland. Today is my first day and I was wondering where I had to go."

The smallish man behind the desk smiled brightly up at him before looking down to his computer. "_Moi moi_ Mr. Kirkland! You need to go the eleventh floor to Mr. Braginski's office. Have a nice first day!"

Arthur smiled awkwardly at the man who's name tag read _Tino _Väinämöinen. 'Must be Nordic with a last name like that.' Arthur thought lightly. Following his instructions, he took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Even though he was somewhat nervous, he pushed down the feeling by knowing that he was going to be amazing. After all, anyone that knew him could tell you that he had an above average vocabulary and a sixth-sense for grammatical errors. And in the field of editing and publishing, those were the two most important assets one could have.

With only a little bit of difficulty, he found the biggest office on the floor with the label 'I. Braginski' on it. Once again, he swallowed the last of his nervousness and knocked decisively on the door.

Inside the office, Ivan sat at his desk, signing papers. "Come in." The door opened and he saw the new employee, who was in a nice-looking suit. "Well, you must be Arthur!" He stood up and opened his arms, waiting for a hug.

Unsure just what his boss was trying to do, he put out his hand awkwardly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Braginski." Arthur didn't feel like it was very professional to hug the tall man, but apparently he thought different. Completely ignoring the hand in front of him, Mr. Braginski wrapped his arms around his small frame and squeezed him close.

"Well, I hope you will like it here. But I am very busy, so it is alright for Toris to show you around, da?" Without waiting for a response, Ivan went to sit down again. Arthur turned to leave, but the big Russian stopped him. "We are very happy to have you work with us. But, just to let you know, if you cause trouble, I will very happily have you fired, and make sure that you never work in this town again." Then he smiled again. "Have a nice day!"

"Thank you sir." He responded, trying to keep out the nervous tone from his voice. As he said, there was a man standing behind him with a passive smile on his face. That must have been Toris.

"Good morning, Mr. Kirkland. My name is Toris Lorinaitis. I will be showing you around, so if you may follow me..." The brunette started walking, unconsciously looking behind him to make sure his boss wasn't following, or peering behind a corner, or behind a plant, perhaps.

Following behind the skittish brunet, Arthur listened intently as he pointed out the main offices of the people who were with the company the longest and listing off which department they worked in. As 'interesting' as it was, he just wanted to know where he would be working. After that, the Briton could meet everyone himself.

"This is the office of... Oh, he's right there." Toris pointed to the man he was talking about, who was in the corner talking to a girl that looked to be in her twenties. He brought Arthur over for introductions.

Francis happened to glance away from the girl and saw Toris walking his way. He turned to great him, but then saw who he was with. Short, blond hair; angry green eyes, yup this was definitely Mr. One-Night-Stand. Great, looks like he actually was the stalker type. But after leaving in the morning without even saying goodbye, why would he come to his work two days later? It wasn't like he could get pregnant...

"Hello Mr....?" Arthur started, holding out his hand for the second time. Hopefully this time the man would get the hint and shake it like a normal person. He looked into the wavy blond's eyes, waiting for his response.

He had found him and not figured out his name? Or was this all a coincidence? There didn't seem to be a look of recognition in his eyes... He didn't remember! Francis could do anything, because Blondy had no clue that they had met before! Yes! He swooped down, taking the offered hand and kissed the back of it. "Bonnefoy. But you can call me Francis, _mon cher_. And you are?"

Ripping his hand away, he quickly wiped it off on the side of his trousers as 'Francis' stood up. He narrowed his eyes before answering. "Kirkland. But you can call me _Mister_ Kirkland. I'm the new employee in the fiction department."

All the while, the Lithuanian man's smile grew slightly wider. Mr. Bonnefoy was already up to his usual tricks. And the man hadn't been in the building for more than an hour. It definitely was a new record for him.

"Well, _Master_ Kirkland, I am very pleased to... meet you." Of course, it wasn't the first time, but this cutie didn't need to know that yet. Francis walked away quickly, before the blond could retort about the master comment, his hips swaying deliberately.

Arthur spluttered slightly at the comment. "Just what is his problem?" Truth be told he didn't mean to say it out loud, but he just couldn't believe the nerve of him. As if he was struck by an epiphany, he turned around to look at Toris with furrowed brows. "Is that... _Mr. Bonnefoy_ French by any chance?"

"Yes, he is. Actually, hardly anyone that works here was born in America." Toris said thoughtfully. "In fact, we have a wide range of nationalities here. Quite interesting, because it was not planned that way."

"Hm." He left simply. If he had put up with the random shenanigans of the Frenchman, then he had hoped desperately that he could control his rage so he didn't kill him and thus get him fired. It wouldn't be a very good thing to have on a resume. Being fired was one thing, but kicked out of an entire city by blackmail was a whole different thing. One that Arthur never wanted to experience.

Looking back to his 'guide', Arthur asked. "Not to be rude, but where exactly is _my _desk? I would like to start working as soon as I can."

"Oh, of course. It is this way." Toris led him to his cubicle. Small, cramped, with cardboard-like walls. "Sorry about the size. It is all we had open. I hope you understand."

Grimacing slightly, he plastered a fake smile on his face. "It's ok. I completely understand." Looking at the empty small space, he put his briefcase on the desk and sat in the chair. "Is there anything specific Mr. Braginski would like me to do today?"

Toris spent the next ten minutes explaining what needed to be done. He left after that. Mr. Braginski would surely be waiting for him.

Feeling bored, Francis got out of his chair and walked around. He smiled when he saw his night lover sitting straight-backed in a small cubicle. He walked over and brushed his back with his hand; the same movement that he had done at the bar. "Well, how do you like it so far, _Master_ Kirkland?"

The Briton jumped a foot in the air at the light touch. "What do you think you are doing, _Mister_ Bonnefoy? And will you please stop calling me by such a name. As much as I appreciate the respect, I don't deserve it just yet." He had reverted to his stock glare, his bright green eyes trying to bore holes through the sapphire ones of his co-worker. He just couldn't help but treat the man a little rougher then would have liked to on his first day. All he could do now was hope that he didn't lose his short temper with the persistent man.

"Is that not what you wished for me to call you? You said Master, did you not?" The Frenchman smiled with a knowing look in his eyes. He loved teasing. The fact that the other was English just made it better.

With a sickly sweet -and obviously fake- smile, he responded. "Oh but I'm sorry. I should have realized, with you're first language not being English, that you would have no conception of words that sounded similar. Now if you would be so kind as to leave me the bloody hell alone, I need to do my job so that I won't be fired on my first day. Good day to you, frog." He added sourly, turning back to the manuscript on his desk. The thing was already riddled with red pen marks but nonetheless it was already a good read.

"Certainly. I will presently depart, thus rendering you able to commence your work so you are not terminated from this place of employment." Francis smiled, the words falling easily from his mouth. Yes, English was not his native language, but he had been speaking it for a while.

"Wanker." Before the man even walked away, he turned to his work and started to pen the mistakes fiercely, taking out his aggression on the paper. After a few seconds Arthur looked up again to see if Francis was still behind him. When he did see him, he just growled slightly before hesitantly asking, "What area do you live in? I think I might have seen you walking around the neighbourhood..."

"Haha, I doubt that very much." So he recognized him slightly. Interesting. "But it is nice to know you think I am attractive."

"You wish. I'm sorry that your narcissism won't let you take a simple question the way it was intended." He knew he saw the man somewhere before, he just had no idea where. Was it his flippant attitude that spurred the memory, or the simple fact that he was a Frenchman living in America? Arthur didn't care too much. It was America after all. There was bound to be a bunch of strange people.

"Well, if you think you remember me from passing in these busy streets, I must have made an impression. For me to have made an impression, there had to be a reason for you to single me out of the crowd. For you to remember what I look like, it must have either been my face that was the reason, or something like I saved your life somehow. I do not remember saving any lives, so I figure it must be the first reason." Francis smiled and gave a small wave. "I must get back to work. _Au revoir_."

Snorting at Francis' logic, the Briton went back to the manuscript to continue editing it. Did this person seriously not know how to speak English properly, never mind write it? If it wasn't for his job, he would have burnt the stack of papers a long time ago. The underlying story was gripping enough to keep him at it, but other than that, it was abhorrent to try and read. Hopefully not all of them would be as bad.

Once in his office, Francis got out his phone and started writing a text to Antonio and Gilbert. It was only nine, so he wouldn't be surprised if they were both still asleep, but he had to tell them.

_Guess who I work with now! My sexy blond from Friday night! Looks like it won't just be a one night stand, guys._ He wasn't going to simply sit back and watch the Englishman live his normal life. What fun would that be?


	5. Chapter 5

When the end of his first day came around, Arthur put his pen down wearily and rolled his neck. Tomorrow he would have to find a better position to work. He stood up from his desk slowly and grabbed his stuff before heading out of his small 'office'. Being raised a gentleman, he figured that he would say a quick "Thank you" to his boss again, making sure not to get hugged once more in the process.

He knocked on his door, to be beckoned in again. Before Ivan could stand up, he said, "Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know how much of an honour it is to be working for you in such a renowned publishing firm. Thank you for the opportunity."

"It is not a problem, comrade. You have been a great help, and it is only your first day!"

When Francis walked by Ivan's office, he heard the voice of his soon-to-be friend with benefits. He decided to duck in behind him for some fun. The oblivious blond kept talking with the boss, not even noticing as the Frenchman slid in behind him. But he certainly noticed when Francis put his arms around his hips. "Done for the day?"

Forcing a smile, he muttered, "Thank you again sir," Before quickly turning around and shoving the Parisian man off of him. "What the bloody hell are you doing now!? I don't want our boss to think that after the first _day_ I'm here, we have already become a couple! He's already threatening to kick me out of the city, for Gods sake!"

"Meh, he says that to all new people. And he can't really say anything about relations in the office." Francis put an arm around Arthur's shoulder. "So, we can't become a couple after your first day. How about the first week?"

"Like bloody hell I will, you giant wine-faced git! Who would even want to be associated with you, never mind actually have a _relationship_ with someone as vile as you? Isn't your ego large enough for you?" Arthur once again pushed the touchy Frenchman off of him, not wanting to be around him any longer. It was just his luck. How did he always manage to attract the most annoying people to him?

Determinedly, he started all but marching away from the blue eyed man. He just wanted to go home, sit down and have a nice relaxing cup of tea.

He almost told him. He almost said that Arthur had already had relations with him of the most intimate kind, he just didn't remember. But why give away his trump card? "To tell you the truth, almost every man in this office has had a relationship with me at one time or another."

"Even more of a reason not to associate myself with someone like you." Why wasn't he just leaving him alone? Couldn't he tell that he had a low tolerance for arseholes?

Francis turned up the charm with a dazzling smile and a wink. "Keep telling yourself that." And he walked away, needed to get things from his office before going home.

Arthur just let out a sigh as Francis walked away. Finally. It was already a long day, and he didn't want to make it longer by having to deal with him. Just as he was looking forward to relaxing at home with a fresh pot of tea and some embroidery, his phone rang, making him simultaneously grind his teeth together and let out an annoyed sigh. "What."

"Hey, Arty!" Alfred said through the phone, holding it with his shoulder while working on his motorcycle, hands greasy. "How was your first day of work? Aren't I amazing for getting you the job?"

"Why of course, oh great, glorious Alfred. I mean, how much better can it get? I've already been threated to be kicked out of the city and I was almost molested as well. Simply fabulous."

"Great! Good to know you like it." He sat down on the floor and took the phone in his hand, wiping the grease on his shirt, adding to all the other stains already on it. "Who's your favourite person? That French guy is pretty cool."

The Briton shuddered at the thought of Francis. "I should know by now that sarcasm is lost on you. Did it ever occur to you that I was British?" Yes it was a simple question, but he _was_ talking to a simple man. He had already gotten into a taxi and was on his way home.

"Ya, it's kinda hard to forget, with your accent and all. But just cause you're British doesn't mean you're racist. Sure, he's French, but he's still a nice guy." He stood up, checking the tires to see if they needed some air.

Damn that boy, knowing just how to silence him. "Of course I'm not racist, but we British have had a long standing rivalry of sorts with the French. It doesn't matter if he's a 'good guy', it still doesn't change the fact that he's a pervert." 'Not to mention the other random French guy I apparently slept with' he mind added helpfully.

"Ya, of course he's a pervert, but so what? Compared to a prude like you, my next door neighbour is a pervert. Besides, I think it's time you got a boyfriend." He smiled. Pulling Arthur's strings was one of his favourite past times.

"Boyfriend?!" Arthur spat, causing the driver to look back at him in the rear view mirror with a raised eyebrow. "Who are you to say that I need to be in a relationship? I'm perfectly fine being single. You're already annoying enough, I don't need anyone else to do the same thing." He was seriously contemplating just hanging up by now.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that! Would you forgive me if I said you were my most important person in the whole wide world and I love you with all my heart and I'm so very glad that you came to live here? And, you have to admit, if it wasn't for me, you never would have come here, and then you never would have had se-, I mean never would have fallen on that table."

"...Only if you somehow make your voice less annoying, then maybe I'll think about forgiving you." Arthur hated to admit it, but he did have a soft-spot of the outspoken American. After all, how else would he have been pressured into coming all the way to New York? "I'm almost at my apartment so I'm going to hang up now."

"K. Love ya!" Alfred said quickly before Arthur could hang up. As usual, he received no reply. He closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket, sighing. "If only you knew..."

Arthur looked at his cell for a second before shutting it. Just what did he think he was doing, saying those kind of things? Between him and his new co-worker, he was doomed.

Once he was finally at his apartment, he started up a pot of tea, sighing as he smelt the comforting scent of it. Everything else could piss him off one way or another, and it always helped him unwind.

.oOo.

Francis sat down at his desk, completely bored. He had nothing to do today. This season just wasn't the time for many romance novels to come out, so he had nothing to read over and edit.

Just then, he saw Arthur walk by his door. Well, _there_ was something he could do... more accurately, something he had already done, but who cared about specifics? He closed his door, heading towards the blond. "Arthur! _Bonjour_!"

Without turning around, Arthur continued to walk away. If he responded, it would only give him more encouragement to bug him more. He still had to get another manuscript from someone else working in the office.

Running a little to catch up, Francis went in front of him so he couldn't run away. "It's good to see you." Then he leaned in and quickly kissed him on each cheek. When he did so, he had a glance of the side of his neck, which was usually covered by the slightly high collar Arthur had worn today, as well as yesterday. He smiled when he saw the faded mark he himself had left there. So he decided to pull the collar down a little. "What is this? A hickey?!"

After wiping off his cheeks, the Briton growled as he started to back up. "For your information, it isn't! And stop bothering me; even if Mr. Braginski doesn't care about work relationships, I do. I certainly do not want anything to do with you, other than the simple fact that we work for the same company." He quickly swatted the hand away from his collar and turned around.

Francis nodded, the smile gone from his face. "I understand. Since we are in the same company, it would be difficult." Arthur started walking away, so Francis smiled again. "So, should I hand in my resignation? Of course, I would have to do the whole two week notice..."

"No. You should just stay away from me and let me live my life in relative peace. I already have one annoying person in my life, I don't need you filling the spot while at work." Arthur stopped quickly, thinking about the possibility. If he did leave, then he wouldn't have to deal with him. Alfred might be upset with him since he liked him for some unfathomable reason, but he didn't care. "On second thought, why don't you quit. I'm sure someone like you would be able to survive on the streets. Plus then you wouldn't be here to bother me constantly."

"Alright, I'll quit. Then we will be able to express our love for each other with no boundaries!" He said, deliberately loud so about ten people heard and turned to see what was going on.

"What are you, insane?!" He hissed, "Don't quit!" The fact that it seemed as if everyone had heard the other's false testimony had caused him to blush lightly. "I don't care about you ok, I just don't want people thinking the wrong things..."

"Don't want people to think _what_? Arthur, do you realize just how many gay guys there are working here? Really, people are not going to think you're weird." He shook his head and turned around, heading back to his office. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that he had a lot of free time on his hands...

Hesitating for a moment, he then followed after the flirtatious blond. "I'm not _gay_... It's just that I prefer men... And you don't have to be so loud about it, do you?" This was one of his infrequent times of actually being somewhat sincere. Arthur didn't want everyone to think that he had something with Francis after the first day. Even if all the men were gay, he still didn't want the Parisian man making up things about their 'relationship'. "It's still Mr. Kirkland to you, by the way. How did you find out my first name anyways?"

Francis smiled, showing his white teeth. "Well of course I would find out the name of my future lover." He put his hand on the handle to his door, waiting to open it. "And as for the preferring men, have you ever had sex with a woman? We may continue this conversation in my office, if you don't want everyone to know." He opened the door, gesturing inside. "After all, my office is sound proof. So you can be as loud as you want."

The gleam in the man's eyes made Arthur make up his mind in an instant. If he was to go into that room, who knew what was going to happen to him. "I'm fine without putting my arse literally on the line. All that matters is if you leave me alone for the rest of the time we are working."

Francis went in his office and closed the door. Alright, then that called for an attack when they were finished working. Wait, he had a date tonight with a hot redhead! Shit, oh well. Tomorrow he could continue having fun with Arthur.

Glad he was finally left alone, Arthur went back to his cubicle after getting the manuscript. How the man seemed to know just how to piss him off was beyond him. It was already proving to be a long day, and he had hoped desperately that it would just get better with time. Francis had already labelled himself as a playboy; maybe if Arthur didn't play along with him, he would lose interest.

.oOo.

Leaning over, Francis kissed the redhead on the lips, slightly surprised when he didn't blush and back away. Of course he wouldn't, this kid wasn't Arthur. Most of his dates didn't hide their feelings behind a mask of annoyance. And at least this guy would remember him in the morning.

"Hey, uh sorry, but what was your name again?" He asked, trailing his hand down a slightly muscular stomach.

"That's the fourth time you asked. I'm not gonna tell you anymore." He said with a laugh.

Francis smiled. "Well then, don't be mad if I yell out someone else's name during sex."

* * *

Is it bad that both me and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture felt like drooling when we thought of mechanic!Alfred?


	6. Chapter 6

After work, the Englishman had gone straight home to unwind again. Having Francis bug him again all day was enough of a reason to drown himself in tea with a splash of whiskey. Just as he was about to finish his first cup, there was a succession of loud knocks on his door. Just his luck. As if he wasn't annoyed enough by the world at work, now he had to be plagued by his own personal jester.

"Come in you git." He ordered, pouring another cup of tea with more alcohol. He was going to need it.

"Hey, wuzzup?" Alfred said, closing the door behind him. "I was bored and in the neighbourhood, so I brought Chinese food." He put the food in the kitchen. "Thought it would be better than your shitty-ass food." He wiped some water droplets off his glasses. It was raining really hard outside. One time he really hated glasses.

"Glad to hear that you have such faith in my cooking skills." He took a large gulp of the warm liquid, glad that he had bought some nice whiskey on his first day here. "Make sure you take off your coat before coming into the living room. I don't want to clean up after your mess."

"You never change, do you?" When Alfred came into the living room, he saw that Arthur had his shirt undone a little. "You still have that hickey. Aren't you gonna tell me anything about how you got it?"

After looking over a very wet Alfred, he responded pugnaciously. "I already told you, it's not a hickey. When did you all of a sudden start caring so much about my 'love life'?"

"Well, I met you about five years ago, right? And, as far as I know, this is the closest you have been in that time to actually _having_ a love life." Alfred laughed, always making jokes, no matter the situation.

"Ah... Five years ago..." Arthur sighed, a dreamy smile on his face. "Back then, I didn't have to worry about you always being around to annoy me." The smile instantly slipped off his face as he took another dainty sip. "If it wasn't for you, none of this would have happened."

"Hey, if it wasn't for me, you would be without a job, since you got fired from your last one for mouthing off at your boss!" Alfred laughed, taking a bite of the Chinese food. "So you would be without a job, and without a lover."

With a disapproving snort -Not that he would ever describe it that way if someone asked-, Arthur grumbled. "I don't have a bloody lover! When will you get it through your thick skull?" He reached over and grabbed one of the containers of Chinese food. He was a gentleman after all, and they didn't let food go to waste. Not like it would with the American who boasted a black hole for a stomach.

The American watched as his friend struggled with the chopsticks for a few minutes. "Wow, you really suck at that." He reached over, putting his arms around Arthur. "This is how you hold them."

Arthur let his hand be molded to the proper shape around the chopsticks by the loud man. When he pulled back, he didn't notice the light blush on the American's face, too preoccupied with his own. "You could have just said something you wanker." Ducking his head a bit, he went back to the food, somehow actually getting some into his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Alfred got some food onto his own chopsticks and went beside Arthur. "Here." He moved them to the Englishman's mouth, offering the food. He opened his mouth and ate it. Alfred had to work hard to not get excited. Fuck, it had been a while for him, too. He got up. "I'll get you a fork."

"I don't need a bloody fork. If I did, I'd get it myself. It _is_ my apartment after all." He continued to try to use the chopsticks. It had gotten to the point though that he was just about to start shovelling the food into his mouth.

"Ok, it just looked like you were gonna go hungry if you continued using chopsticks." Alfred jeered, laughing. He finished his own food while Arthur was still struggling with his own. "Well, I should be going. The rain has stopped, so I wanna get going before it starts again. I hate riding in the rain."

Arthur swallowed before talking. "I forgot you still had that blasted contraption. It's death on wheels, that's what it is." He took another small bite as Alfred got his shoes and jacket on. "Thank you for the food by the way. I really do appreciate you bringing it." There it was again; his bloody soft side. He couldn't really keep it from showing whenever the obnoxious blond was around.

"No problem. And why would I ever get rid of my bike? It's so fun! I should take you for a ride, sometime." He smiled. He truly did love to ride his bike. "The feeling of the wind in your hair, it's awesome! But nice to know you care about me."

"Yeah yeah, don't let it get to your head. You're still the same git to me, and don't forget it." That would hopefully make up for his momentary weakness. "As for the ride on your death machine, I have to pass. As terrible as it is, I happen to enjoy my life for the most part."

"Whatever. One of these days, I'm gonna find a guy who will ride with me." He smiled and went outside, closing the door behind him.

As soon as his door closed, Arthur sat for a second before picking up the chopsticks again and tried to use them. After a few unsuccessful seconds, he gave up and went to get a fork. The idiot was right.

All he could do was wait for the weekend. Hopefully the annoying Frenchman would never learn his address.

.oOo.

Francis leaned over Arthur's shoulder, feigning interest in what he was doing. "I missed you this weekend." He whispered into his ear, and his hand went down to grope his butt.

"Bloody hell!" He let out a dignified shriek, jumping away from the invasive touch. "Well I didn't miss you, frog." Arthur rubbed his ear where the man's stubble rubbed awkwardly against it.

"Well, personally, when I was having sex with a guy from the bar, I was thinking of you the whole time. He even had blond hair." Francis said, smiling and waiting for the punch that was sure to come.

"As interesting as your sex life is to some people, I am not one of them. Please let me be before I file a sexual abuse report." Somehow, the Briton managed to control his temper and just let the man off with a verbal warning.

"Haha, come on, don't be so cold, _mon petit ami_." Francis smiled. Arthur may know enough French to work out that he just said 'my little friend' but would probably not know that it also meant 'my boyfriend'.

"I can be as cold as I want." That was it. Any more, and he would punch the man straight in his face and get fired. Now he _really_ didn't want to do that, but how else could he show just how annoying he was?

"Well, if you can be as cold as you want, than I can be as perverted as I want." Francis said, right before he licked Arthur's ear, giving it a light nip as he did so.

As his face slowly turned bright red, Arthur yelled. "I don't know what your problem is, but you better leave in the next ten seconds before I punch your pretty little nose in so hard that you'll be disfigured for life." His face was still fire-truck red and his hands had started to shake. What did he ever do to deserve such treatment?

Ivan walked up behind the two men, putting his long arms around both of them. "Well, are we getting along, comrades?"

Francis chuckled deep in his throat, a little nervously. Sure, he had slept with Ivan once or twice, but he was still scary. "We're doing just fine, aren't we, Arthur?"

"Of course." He forced himself to give a strained smile to his employer. As well, his hands had slowly unclenched. Arthur definitely didn't want to do anything with Ivan around. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I have to get back to my job as does Mr. Bonnefoy."

"_Oui_, I was just making sure our new employee was adjusting to this place nicely." Francis smiled and went back to his office. He wanted to have fun with Arthur, but not at the expense of pissing off his boss. He might end up dead if he did.

Being around Ivan was almost worse than Francis. When they both left him though, Arthur let out a loud sigh. How was he going to get over being molested at work? He only had one friend, and he was just as insufferable as the Parisian man.

"Hello, Kirkland-san." Kiku walked around the corner, wishing to great the new employee. "My name is Kiku Honda. Nice to meet you." He gave a small bow, and held out his hand in the more common greeting in America.

"Hello Mr. Honda, it's nice to meet you." Finally! A normal handshake with nary a hug or grope in sight. "Which department do you work in?"

"Historical Fiction." He wanted to ask about what he had heard when Bonnefoy-san had been over here, but of course that would be impolite. "And what department do you work in?"

A small, genuine smile fell on his lips. "Mystery and Suspense. How long have you been working with the company?" Sure they were boring, methodical question, but it was a person who wasn't out to annoy him, and he was going to grasp the chance to talk to an actually sane person.

"About a year. Bonnefoy-san was actually the person who got me in, so I am very grateful to him." Kiku smiled slightly, not wanting to offend anyone.

The smile faded slightly. "Ah. My friend made a referral for me to work here, so I came over from England." Even if he was connected with Francis, it was better than the man himself.

"Well, I should get back to work. It was nice talking to you. I hope we can talk some other time." He smiled once again, not even sure why he did it. This stupid compulsion to make people happy.

"I understand. It was nice to meet you." Both of them smiling, Kiku walked back to his office. Maybe this day could somehow get better. That is, as long as both Alfred and Francis kept their distance.


	7. Chapter 7

When lunch time came around, the Englishman stayed sitting at his desk. Since he wasn't the best cook, he decided that he would tide over lunch just by eating a large breakfast in the morning.

"What have we here? Not going to the lunch room?" Francis grabbed the chair from the next cubicle and sat down beside Arthur. "Well, since we are probably a horrible cook, being English and all, I made you some lunch. No need to thank me, it is the duty of a lover."

"It's your duty to leave me alone." He tried valiantly to ignore the man sitting right next to him. Inwardly he sighed. Why did it seem like everyone thought he was a horrible cook because he was English? Arthur could make scones and fish and chips and a bunch of other things!

"Fine, I will let you eat in peace then. I will have to wait for my dreams tonight to have sex with you again." Francis smiled, bent down and quickly, before he was punched, he placed his lips on the smooth English ones in a chaste kiss. "_Au revoir, mon cheri._"

"Wait, what?! What do you mean, 'dreams'?! How dare you do such vile things, even if they _are_ in your mind!" Arthur fumed, wiping his mouth off frantically on his sleeve. What made him think that it was ok to just go up to random people and kiss them?

Still growling to himself, Arthur went back to the manuscript. Last week he had proof read the first one. This one didn't have as many errors, but instead the story itself was somewhat lacking. But, it wasn't his job to choose what would be published.

Just then, his stomach gave a loud growl from smelling the food Francis had left on his desk. Bloody wine-faced git... He probably knew that he didn't have much to eat... With another loud sound resonating from his stomach, he hesitantly reached out for the container.

No! He wouldn't submit to his hunger! Eating would almost be like admitting that they actually did have something. He couldn't do it!

Well... As long as no one saw... Arthur pushed his chair back to look around quickly. Not seeing a soul, he quickly opened the container. '_God...' _he all but moaned in his mind. The smell! It was as if his very nose was being raped by the obviously French food. This was exactly what he planned, wasn't it? At this point though, his mind was way too clouded to think about it. It smelt good, and he was going to eat it.

Picking up the fork slowly, he contradicted his image of a 'gentleman' by violently stabbing the food and brought it to his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully for a second, his eyes soon glazed over. It was... It was...

Perfect. Simply and utterly perfect.

Before he could stop himself, Arthur all but inhaled the food. He was glad for the sustenance, but the taste was divine. It took most of his willpower not to let out a satisfied moan. Damn that man and his bloody national cuisine.

Francis once again snuck up behind him, seeing the food container completely empty. "So, you liked it? I assure you, _I_ taste much better."

Shite! Arthur turned around slowly to see a smirking Frenchman standing behind him. A bit of the food was on his face as it morphed from one filled with pleasure to that of mortification. No one was supposed to see him eat it, never mind the very man who gave it to him on false pretences! "S-shut the bloody hell up!" How dare that man play him!

"Sounds like a _oui_!" Francis leaned down and licked the piece of food off his face. "Mm, I must say, I have really outdone myself with that dish!" He laughed when the Englishman jumped back and wiped his cheek.

"I would never speak your excuse for a language, never mind like your food! I... I just ate it because I was hungry and it was there! I didn't enjoy it one bit!" Arthur continued to spew, too nervous to actually come up with a good insult. He was _this_ close to standing up and slapping the man, but being at work stopped that urge.

"To have inhaled the food that fast and not like it, you must have been starving." Francis said thoughtfully. Arthur nodded his head. Just what he was waiting for. "Well, in that case, I will always make you food! You obviously never eat before because English food is absolutely horrendous, so I can cook for you!"

"What?!" Arthur's mind was still on hyper drive from Bonnefoy licking his cheek. Unconsciously he put his hand on it lightly as his face continued to stay beet red. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself! I've cooked for myself for a long enough time that I'm not in any need for a personal chef, no matter how bloody delicious it was..." Realizing just what he said, he moved his hand to his mouth and then quickly retaliated. "Bloody disgusting! I said bloody disgusting!"

"Haha, of course you did." Francis laughed. "Well, I will take my dishes back, unless you were planning on keeping them to lick it clean."

"Take them and leave before I have to hit you." Arthur was still embarrassed, but he still wasn't going to let him take advantage of that fact.

Francis did so with a knowing smirk. When he picked up the fork, he said, "Are you sure you want me to have this? You never know, I could be a mad scientist and use your DNA to make a perfect replica of you, with which I can do anything, like pluck those eyebrows, or take advantage of its lower half..."

That was it. He quickly stood up and punch Francis in the stomach. As he doubled over in pain, Arthur grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up to hiss in his ear. "Now why would you be working here if you were a mad scientist?" With another light punch, he let him bend over. Whispering, he added, "Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I won't hesitate to do worse. Why get myself kicked out of the city if I could be kicked out of the entire country. Take your things and go."

Eyes open wide, France fell to his knees, still clutching his stomach. He started gasping for air. "My... rib..." His voice barely above a whisper, he fell at Arthur's feet and managed to cough out, "Ho-hospital..." And with one great wracking cough, he totally collapsed, eyes falling shut.

Arthur just sneered down at him, not fooled by the act. "No one likes the melodramatics, Mr. Bonnefoy." He continued to leer down at the man. After a few seconds where he didn't do or say anything, the Englishman started becoming nervous. He couldn't have possibly hit him that hard... Did he?

"Bonnefoy?" He asked quietly, a hint of concern drifting into his voice. Punching someone in the stomach couldn't kill them... "You can get up now before people start making fun of you, although that would be a fun thing to watch."

He continued to just lay there. Did he actually have to go to the hospital? Arthur couldn't ask other people in the office to help because they would then know just what he did... And it was only his second week there! He bent over the unconscious Frenchman and hesitantly put two fingers on his neck, trying to feel a pulse.

Feeling the two fingers to his throat, Francis lifted a hand, grabbing him by the back of his head and brought their faces together. He smiled, joining French and English lips for a few seconds, before the other violently pulled away. "You shouldn't punch someone if you are not aware of their physical condition. What if I had recently been in an accident, and was just recovering from a broken rib? You could have punctured my heart or something." He smiled and sat up. "But seriously, that hurt..."

"You giant git!" Arthur yelled, this close to hitting Francis again. "I thought I killed you! I mean..." He mumbled, his face turning red, "I didn't want to go to jail..."

Francis let the smirk fall from his face to be replaced by a sincere smile. "Alright, I guess I went too far. I promise I won't do something like that again. Forgive me?"

"Whatever... I mean, I did punch you, so really it was my fault..." Sometimes Arthur could actually care about people. Especially if his way of life was in jeopardy. "Just... Don't tell anyone?" Arthur's blush had started to subside. If Francis didn't tell anyone, then he wouldn't be in trouble. He sat down on the floor beside Francis as he looked into his eyes.

"Of course not. It's not like I've never been punched before." He gave a small laugh, and there was a moment of silence between them. He smiled to himself. A bonding moment, to make their relationship just a little closer. He saw Arthur's hand on the floor beside his own. He lifted his hand and moved it, right to that firm bottom, and squeezed.

When Arthur felt the invading hand on his buttocks, without thinking he stood up quickly and kicked. He wasn't necessarily aiming for anywhere in particular, but it made him smile lightly when he saw the perverted man curl up in pain once more. That time he had completely deserved it. Well, maybe not the fact that he kicked his balls.

"Sorry for that again, but maybe that will help cool your head."

Smiling through the pain, Francis watched as Arthur stormed away. There was no way he was going to get away with this. He was going to have sex with him again for sure.

The question was, how. The pester-him-until-he-gave-up hadn't worked, and neither had the give-him-food-so good-he-will-have-an-orgasm-and-jump-you. So, this was going to take some work.

.oOo.

Sorry everyone for the wait! My computer is having some issues right now. Schoolgirl-chesesculpture is helping any way she can, and we are still writing, just with a few problems. Also, I probably won't be able to reply to reviews, so just be sure you are all loved!


	8. Chapter 8

The next day at work was surprisingly uneventful for the aggressive blond. Francis hadn't done anything to him; in fact, he was pretty sure he didn't see him all day. Not that he was complaining, mind you. Because of it though, Arthur had started getting slightly apprehensive. What if he was just waiting for him to stop thinking about him so he could jump up and molest him? Or maybe he was waiting for no one to be around and then drag him off to his sound proof room? Why did just being at work have to be a threat to his innocence? Because he was constantly on edge, Arthur didn't get much work done. Every second was spent on high alert for the perverted blond.

For the next few days, the same thing happened: Arthur would start work and be glad that Francis wasn't there. Then he would slowly start paying more attention to the fact that he hadn't been molested then to his work and slowly go insane. By the end of the day, he would be as much as an emotional wreck that Arthur ever could be and all but run out of the office to get to his apartment. Yes he didn't like the negative attention, but at least it was expected.

Wait... if Francis wasn't going to work, did that mean he had actually hurt him that bad? Did he single handedly send him to the hospital? He thought he didn't kick him _that_ hard... The thought still made him feel worse. Sure he was a perverted snail eating git, but he was still a human. And his co-worker none-less. Hopefully though he was just moping at home.

As Arthur got into the taxi after work, he was about to drill out his address when he stopped. Why not go visit Alfred? They hadn't talked for a while, and he was his only friend in the city. Hopefully he would stop being immature for a second so that they could discuss things like adults. Not that being nineteen made Alfred an adult by any stretch of the imagination.

Once he was at the American's apartment complex, he made his way up to his home and knocked loudly. "You better be decent brat cause I'm coming in." Only waiting a few seconds, he tugged at the door only to find it locked. Why didn't the wanker have enough foresight to at least give him a key?

Hearing some commotion at Alfred's door, Matthew looked out to find a blond guy trying to wrench open his door. "Um, sir? He's not at home..." He didn't add that if the man was trying to break in, he had a very handy hockey stick that in some cases was better than a gun; or so he kept telling Al.

Arthur quickly stopping trying to break open his excuse for a friend's door and looked over to where he heard the soft voice come from. The man who was standing there shyly looked like the spitting image of Alfred, except for the missing egotistical aura and instead of a large cowlick, he had a long curly hair. "If I may be so rude to ask, did he said when he would be home?"

"No. I'm just his neighbour, so I wouldn't know. Um but I have the number for his cell phone." He ushered the strange man inside. "I'm Matthew, but you can call me Matt. Everyone does."

Shaking his head, Arthur refused. "Nice to meet you Matthew, but it wouldn't be right to intrude. I already have his number, but if he's gone then he would be riding his motorcycle and wouldn't hear it ring. I'll just come back later."

"Alright." But of course Matt could tell that the other man truly didn't want to leave, so of course he was compelled to ask, "Well, if you want, you can wait at my place for him."

"Are you sure that's alright?" Well, if he could save some money on a taxi ride, why not? Plus this might help get his mind off of maybe having killed the frog. He also seemed like another sane person that Arthur could talk to. "Before I forget, my name is Arthur Kirkland." He put out his hand. "Alfred has said some very nice things about you."

Hating the blush that rose to his cheeks, but unable to do anything about it, Matthew gave a little smile as they shook hands. "Well, as far as neighbours go, I am pleased to hear that." Of course, only neighbours. Only ever as neighbours.

Following Matthew into his apartment, he wasn't surprised to see that it was the mirror image of Alfred's apartment, except much cleaner. There was a Canadian flag on the side wall as soon as they walked in. "Are you Canadian Matthew?" It seemed as good as a conversation starter as any.

"Yes. Yes I am." And damn proud of it, too! Of course, he couldn't say that. Maybe if he was drunk. But not with American beer. That stuff didn't have enough alcohol to get a _bug_ drunk. "And I suppose you're English."

"My accent, hm?" Arthur allowed himself to chuckle. "It's gotten me out of a few situations before." Being polite, he stayed standing until the quiet man offered him a seat. "Would it be too imposing to ask if by any chance you have some tea?"

"Of course not. Oh, I only have Earl Grey, if that's alright." The Canadian stood up to start the water boiling.

With a rare, wide smile, the Briton said. "I would say that I love you, but considering we just met and you are my 'friend's' neighbour, that would be highly inappropriate. Alfred doesn't understand the simple pleasure that is a hot cup of fresh brewed tea."

"Haha, nor does he understand that you just have to have maple syrup with pancakes. He just eats them dry!" He sat down to wait for the water to boil. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how did you and Al meet?"

"I came to America five years ago and he attached himself onto me. When I had to go back to Britain, he promised me that one day he would get me a job here, and he finally did." Arthur would have never imagined he would be talking to Alfred's shy neighbour in his apartment, but it was a nice break. Other than Kiku, he was the only sane person he met here. "What made you come to America? Canada couldn't have been that bad."

"Oh. I just figured it would be better for my career to live here." There was a sound outside, so Matthew stood up to look out the window in the door. "Al's back. It was nice talking to you."

Great. And before he even got some tea! "So it seems..." Arthur mumbled. "Well, any ways, it was nice to formally meet you. I do hope we will talk again some other time." Oh well, it would have to wait for later he supposed. He got up and shook the Canadian's hand again. "I'm sorry for putting you through the trouble of making the tea since I wasn't able to enjoy it."

"Oh, that's fine. Well, it should be almost done. I could get a go cup for you, if you wanted. You could just give it to Al, and I can pick it up later."

"Thank you again." Arthur waited as Matthew poured a cup for him. Taking it gingerly in his hands, he took a grateful sip, sighing from the warmth. Waving goodbye, he walked the short distance to Alfred's door and pounded forcefully on it; his attitude taking a one-eighty.

"Yeah yeah, hold you're horses." Alfred said as he opened the door. He smiled when he saw who it was. "Oh, hey Arty! Why do you look more pissed than usual?"

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, shut the bloody hell up. I've had a long week, and I decided to be a nice friend and drop by when you weren't home. You should be glad your neighbour is a better host then you'll ever be." Arthur pushed his way into Alfred's apartment; careful not to spill a drop of the delicious liquid.

"Yeah, whatever." They went to the living room and sat down, Arthur cradling a cup in his hands like it was a newborn baby. "So, what's got the stick up your ass? Or should I say, what has the stick up your ass shoved up there further than it usually is?"

His forehead twitching, he took a small sip of the tea, trying to make it last. If he had to deal with the idiot without it... Let's just say it wouldn't be pretty. "I don't know if I want to tell you anymore if you continue to act like such a petulant child. I came here to discuss with someone like _adults_ but I understand if you're too immature to do so."

"Hey, I'm nineteen! But if you have to be a tight-ass to be an adult, then," Alfred crossed his legs and put his clasped hands on his knee, his back as straight as a ruler, and, in a perfect imitation of Arthur's accent, said, "Proceed."

"After that I don't want to talk to you ever again. My accent is not something to be mocked. It is the true voice of the regal English language. Something that you _Americans_ have defiled since the day you learnt how to speak. You'd be better off speaking French." He all but spat. So much for venting.

"Come on, if you tell me what's up, I promise I won't call you limey for the whole day." Alfred said, his usual smile on his face.

Glaring over his cup, he just gulped down the rest. So much for stretching it. "If you ever call me a 'limey' to my face, I won't hesitate to strangle you." With a sigh, he let himself open up. "Fine... I only came here because you're my only friend in America, not because I actually want to tell you."

"Aw, poor little lime... I mean Arthur." Alfred smiled and took the now-empty cup to the kitchen. "Well, since I _am_ your only friend, I guess you will just have to tell me." He went to go sit back down on the couch.

He narrowed his eyes for a second before starting. "I blame that fact all on you, just in case you were wondering." Now that his hands were empty, he just rested them on his lap. "But anyways, you obviously know the despicable Parisian man at my workplace."

"Yeah, Francis!"

"Yes.. _Him._ Well, I kind of... Disabled him from being able to bother me while we were working, and since then I haven't seen him. That was on Monday." He explained as Alfred looked blankly at him. "Since then, I haven't seen him at work and it's been putting me on the edge. I just know that he's planning something to get me back, but why wouldn't he be going to work?"

Alfred put his head in his hands for a second. "Arthur, if by disable, you mean cut off his dick or something, that's _probably_ why he isn't at work." He wasn't completely sure he wanted to know what the Englishman had meant by 'disable'.

Arthur cringed slightly, but quickly covered it up. "Well, I didn't necessarily _cut _it off... I kind of accidentally kicked him... But it was his fault! He's the one that molested me in the first place!"

"So what, with one kick you go crazy for a week thinking you killed him? You are either really stupid, or you're like in love with this guy. Or you have super-human strength, and this isn't the first time you've killed a guy with a kick to the nuts."

"I've already told you, I was drunk and he was trying to rape me! What else was I supposed to do! And he didn't _die_... He just was in extreme pain for a day. Or two." Arthur started yelling, his eyebrows furrowing together. What ever had made him think that coming over here was a good idea? It probably would have been more successful to tell all of his life problems to a wall. At least it wouldn't piss him off. "And I'm not _'in love'_ with him, he was trying to grope me and I stopped him. It's the gentlemanly thing to do to care about others even if they don't deserve it."

Alfred started laughing. "Do you realize what you sound like? Like a little kid with a crush! Hey... is Francis the one who gave you all those hickeys, by chance?" He wouldn't be surprised, with those two.

"They're not hickeys! And I only have one... Because I fell! Also, it is not a crush, it is extreme hatred. There _is_ a difference, even if your puny brain cannot comprehend that." What was he supposed to say to the boy to make him understand that he had nothing with the Frenchman? "How could you even imagine the possibility of us being," he shuddered at the thought, "_lovers_." The word was like poison in his mouth.

"Oh come on, even you have to admit that Francis is hot. With that wavy hair, just the right amount of stubble to say 'I don't care but I'm not a slob', and that 'come hither' look. You would make a good couple. They always say opposites attract!" He laughed again, holding his sides and slightly rolling on the couch.

"Shut up you bloody Yank! You wouldn't know what love was if it hit you in the face, so stop trying your hand at being a matchmaker. The only thing that would come out of us being together would be one more filled grave." Arthur gave his best death glare, only to have it ignored by the laughing teen. How dare he think that they could even possibly be a _couple_? He was French after all, and that was a good enough reason for him.

"Ok," Alfred stopped laughing and looked Arthur in the eyes. Damn, why was he trying to talk him into going out with someone else? "Give me one good reason besides that he's a perv and French that you hate him."

Staring the American down, Arthur answered simply. "Because he's a disgusting pervert, French and I hate him. What other reasons do you need? I've already made up my mind: I am _never_ going to be more than co-workers with that snail-eating, wine-faced wanker." With that, he crossed his arms and held his head high. How could Alfred disprove his statement? After all, Arthur was a man of his word.

"And you call _me _a child? Come on, you're being the most immature person here. Sure, I make a lot of jokes, but at least I give people a chance. I'm friends with Ivan, even if he's Russian."

"I stand by my statement. I don't care about your private life, and you shouldn't try and interfere with mine. If my boss is your friend; so be it. It got me a job and that's all that matters." What else could he say to prove his point? Alfred kept continuing to give him valid reasons for him to stop hating the blond man, but it wasn't as easy as just upright deciding not to. "Anyways, I'm done here. I think I've overstayed my welcome if you're starting to act like you know everything."

"Ok, whatever." Alfred smiled a cocky smile. "Tell Francis I say hi."

With a disapproving sniff, Arthur stood up gracefully. "I don't have to do anything." As he looked around the apartment, his face took on a look of disgust. "Unless you are cultivating fungi growths, you really need to clean. At least your neighbour Matthew keeps his apartment in good shape." He was tempted to add 'it must be because he's not an American slob like you' but figured it was a little over the edge, no matter how much the blond was pissing him off with his royal attitude.

"Meh, it's cause he's Canadian. Probably still thinks the Mounties will come and pick him up, throwing him in the local igloo if he doesn't keep his place clean. See ya!" He put his feet on the table and turned on the TV.

"At least he doesn't act like an uncultured snob like _someone_ I know." If Arthur wanted a proper goodbye, he didn't say so as he marched angrily out of Alfred's apartment. Just who did he think he was, giving him all those ideas about Francis? He would never be more than an annoying pain in the arse at work, and certainly would never make it as a lover. It would just be one giant headache. Plus if the brat liked him so much, why didn't he got out with the Frenchman himself? It would help get both of them off his hands.

He took the elevator to the main floor and continued to sulk. What put the idea of them being together in the idiot's head in the first place? It wasn't as if he showed any interest in him other than hatred... How could he possibly think of them together? Was it that he was jealous and wanted to see the two of them crash and burn? As much as he was an imbecile, Arthur seriously doubted that. As much as he hated to admit it, the boy didn't have a selfish bone in his body; well at least none that he had ever witnessed.

On the ride home he continued to contemplate not just that, but the fate of the Parisian man. If he really was in the hospital, Arthur would feel terrible, but that didn't mean he would visit. That would almost be as blunt as outright saying he cared about him more then just as a co-worker, and that definitely wasn't the case. All he was able to do while saving face was wait it out.


	9. Chapter 9

Francis walked to his office on Monday morning. He passed by a brunette. "_Bonjour_, Elizaveta. How was your week?"

She smiled. "Boring without you here. Glad to have you back." And she walked away while looking back, to see if she could get a glance of him flirting with any guys.

The Frenchman had to leave his office a few minutes later to take some papers to Ivan, and he passed the cubicle of a certain blond.

As if by chance, one of Arthur's 'He's right behind me so I better look before he gropes me' urges popped up just as the man was in fact behind him. His eyebrows jumping to his hair line, he quickly covered his surprise with a polite cough. "I see you've finally come back to work... So... Where were you? Not that I care, or anything..."

"Ah, nice to see you, as well, _mon cher_." He placed a box on the desk. "Here is your lunch for today. I am sorry I have not been here to make it for you the last little while." He smiled and started walking away.

When Francis walked away without answering, he stood up and watched him go before asking, "Then why are you avoiding my question? I have a right to know as your fellow co-worker after all..." Arthur finished lamely. Damn that American brat for putting ideas in his head!

"Oh, it's not a big deal, is all. I was simply in _l'hôpital_ for a while." He smiled and continued on his way without a backward glance. Of course, he made sure to knock on Ivan's door before entering. One time he hadn't done so, and walked in on... something he shouldn't.

So he _was_ in the hospital! He knew it! Wait... Was it a bad thing that under his guilt he felt slightly proud of his abilities? Not thinking about it, he continued after Francis. "Why didn't you say anything you mindless git? If you were in that much pain I could have phoned the hospital for you."

"Mr. Kirkland," Francis said formally. "I have some business to attend to right now, if we may speak about this later? _S'il vous plaît_?" He continued walking into the office. "I am finished with this chapter, so _voilà_." He had a few minutes of conversation with his boss and then turned to leave.

As Francis talked with Mr. Braginski, Arthur just stood there tapping his foot with his arms crossed. He wasn't going to get out of answering his question that easily. He had waited a week for it, and he was getting it one way or another. "What the bloody hell were you doing in a hospital for a week? I couldn't have kicked you _that_ hard."

"You are very persistent. Fine, I had internal bleeding, if you must know." He started walking away again, but the Englishman followed him. "Apparently, it doesn't always hurt at first. But after a while, it kills."

"You're lying." He said bluntly. A kick to the groin wouldn't do that... Would it? It wasn't as if he stayed behind with his first victim to find out.

"Yes, of course the whole world is conspiring against you. I took off practically a whole week to fool you, and the entire company was behind it as well, of course, letting me stay at home for four days." Francis rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Are you sure you're not American?"

Arthur bristled. "You should bloody well know I'm not. And how do I know this isn't some twisted initiation stunt you pull on all the new employees? You've been here long enough I'd imagine to have molested more then three quarters of the work force."

"What could this possibly have with me molesting you? I hadn't even planned to tell you in the first place. And I've only been working here three years." He smiled. "Aren't you the one always wanting to get back to work?"

"Shut up frog!" He hissed, upset since he was actually right, for once. "Not that I care... But I can pay for the hospital bill. It's the least I can do; as it is expected from gentlemen such as myself."

Francis turned around, a serious look on his face. "You..." and then he turned to the wall, putting his forehead to it with his arms beside. His shoulders started shaking. "You fell for it!" His laughter came out now, and he managed to say between gasps, "You fell for it... a second time! _Mon Dieu_, I didn't think it would work! Did you know gullible is written on the ceiling!"

Arthur's eyes flickered to the ceiling before he started yelling. "You fucking _twat_! I decide to open my heart and my wallet for you and all you do is laugh at me! This is precisely why I don't want anything to do with you! You can't even concentrate on what other's think because you're big _fat_ French-speaking head is shoved too far up your arse!" At this point, he wasn't even thinking about the ruckus he was causing. Arthur's face had turned bright red and his entire body was shaking. Trust a bloody Frenchman to take advantage of his chivalrous side. "I should have kicked you _harder_ if I knew this is what was going to happen! At least then you would keep it in your pants for more then a few hours at a time!"

"I resent that! I haven't had sex for at least 12 hours!" Francis smiled and started walking away. He turned his head back to say one last thing. "But at least you got what you want. I won't touch you anymore." Unless asked to, of course. He would have no problem touching him if he was asked to.

"Oh, _excuse me!_ Well I'm going to go do my _job_ now, and I suggest you do the same while keeping your promise." He was done with Francis! He continued to take advantage of him, but at least now he was safe from being molested. Without waiting for a response, he turned around and stomped over to his desk.

Francis continued to his office with a smile. Exactly as planned.

Kiku cautiously peeked his head around the corner to Arthur's cubicle. "Kirkland-san? Is everything alright? I heard an argument with Bonnefoy-san."

All the anger he held at the moment quickly flushed from his body, causing Arthur to grimace slightly. "I wasn't very subtle about it was I?"

"It is fine. While Bonnefoy-san is truly a good man, he can be a bit much, sometimes." He said, nodding slightly. He gave a small smile. "Would it be alright for me to ask what it is about?"

How would he go about saying he kicked the wanker in the balls and he lied about going to the hospital? Well, if he was to just say part of the truth, it would be enough. "He just lied about something that happened. It just put me off a bit."

"Ah. Well, I suppose he had his reasons. He seems very interested in you, if you don't mind me saying. Unrequited love, perhaps?"

"I do mind you saying that. Mr. Bonnefoy and I are only co-workers and nothing more. I am completely aware of his _problem_ and I don't want to surround myself with people like him." Arthur didn't mean to be rude to one of the only sane people he knew in New York, but it was a touchy subject.

"Ah, yes, I see your point." In truth, Kiku didn't see what was wrong. Of course, he sometimes got flustered with the loud Parisian, but he did not consider that a problem. It was just what he was like. But, if he said that, there could be an argument, so he kept silent.

Sighing, Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "I'm glad someone does. Well I really need to get back to work, sorry Mr. Honda."

"Yes, of course. Well, have a good day." Kiku walked away towards his own cubicle.

With another stressed sigh, he picked up the newest manuscript and started to idly correct it. Even though Francis said he wouldn't touch him anymore, why did he still feel so antsy?

.oOo.

Two weeks had gone by somewhat uneventfully and in all truth, it freaked Arthur out. It was nice to be able to go to work and not be worried about the safety of his arse, but that exact fact made it all the more unbearable. How did the Parisian control himself? It was probably just because he had a bunch of other people he could molest instead. Arthur was just the most convenient since he was 'new meat' and they were around each other for most of the day.

In order to stop thinking about it, he started working on the newest of the pile of manuscripts on his desk. Arthur rubbed his temples before almost crossing out an entire sentence. Actually being in America showed him just how badly they spelt and how horrible their grammar was. The only thing that threw him off was the fact that there was_ French_ in it. French. Just what was some American fool doing using French? They could barely speak English as it was!

Well, it was his job to make sure it was all correct; foreign languages and all. Unfortunately though, the only person he knew that could speak _that_ was Francis, and he really didn't want to break the silence they had. But if it was because of work, he could allow it. Grabbing the chapter, he walked the short way to Francis' and hesitated a second before knocking.

"_Entrez_." Francis said without even looking up. He was incredibly tired due to the fact that he had only gotten half an hour of sleep last night. Threesomes were great, but sometimes they went a little late, with three people needing to finish instead of two, and this time everyone kept on getting hard. Mm, it was a good night.

"Sorry to bother your celibacy from even being around me, but I need some help; as much as I want to stay away from you." Arthur muttered from the doorway. There was _no_ way he was going in there after his last comment about the room.

"Alright, what do you need? I don't really think it's advice on what to wear on a date, so I'll assume it's work related." Francis smiled, although not cockily like he used to. This was the part of the plan that he really had to be careful with. He had to be charming enough so that Arthur will still want him, but he has to keep his word about not touching him. Of course, if the Englishman was the first to make contact...

"You better assume that, frog." Arthur walked a bit further into his office. "I have a manuscript I have to edit and there's French in it. Obviously you are the only person in our branch that has enough of a grasp of French to be of any help, so I had to come to you. Don't think it's anything personal."

"Well, you know a little French." He didn't add that he knew Arthur knew French from when they were having sex. That would probably have a negative effect on his wanted outcome. "Bring it over here, then. I will look it over."

"Actually..." Arthur started slowly. He _really_ didn't want to go inside the office any more then he had to. If the Frenchman did anything to him in there, no one would be able to hear him. "I was thinking you could just come to my desk... There are only a few words." He purposely ignored the comment about him knowing French.

"You have the papers with you, so what would be the point of going all the way to your desk?" He gave a small disappointed sigh. "Have I not kept my promise?"

Damn, the wanker was right. There really was no reason not to trust him at the moment. He was keeping his promise, and for two weeks. "You have." Arthur took a few silent steps up to the frog's desk. "There is a spattering of French words throughout this chapter so far. I don't know if the rest are like this one, but right now I just need this one looked at."

"Alright, let's have a look." He stood up when the papers were put on his desk and looked at them, standing millimetres away from Arthur, but being careful not to brush up against his arm or touch his finger when he reached for the papers.

Arthur watched quietly as Francis looked through the document. He could tell he was being extra careful not even to breathe the same air as him, never mind touch him. It was almost more awkward for him to _not_ touch him then for him to do something and then yell at him. After all, in here, no one would hear him yelling. "You don't have to act like I have a disease or something."

Acting like he was concentrating on the papers and not the conversation, Francis shrugged and said, "You don't have a disease, I just don't want to be kicked again."

"I seriously doubt that's all that's stopping you from raping me right now." Arthur muttered as Francis crossed out a word and wrote the proper spelling above it.

Francis finished with the papers and handed them back. "There you go, now if you don't mind I have things to do." He said with a small smile that hinted that he was slightly annoyed. Just a hint though. Anymore and Arthur would get suspicious.

Grabbing it back, Arthur smirked slightly. "Sure you do." If those 'things' he had to do had nothing to do with sex, he would be surprised. "Thank you anyways. If the other chapters have French in them I'll bring them as well."

Nodding distractedly, Francis went back to his desk and pulled out some papers. He made sure not to look back up until he was completely positive the Englishman had left.

Once he was out of the office, Arthur let out a long sigh. He _really_ hoped that there wasn't going to be anymore French in the manuscript. If there was, even though he was sure Francis wasn't going to jump him, he still couldn't be too sure.

When the Brit got to his desk, he glared down at the container of food. How dare he try and seduce him through food? The only reason he sat down and tore off the lid like a starving animal was because he couldn't bare to see it go to waste. After all, it looked like it was expensive, and who knew when he would get such a good meal?

Arthur all but inhaled the food from the container as he did the last time. Also like last time, it took most of his willpower not to moan as the carefully prepared food barraged his mouth with flavours. Just how did he do it? Was it laced with some sort of weak aphrodisiac? The frog bastard probably did do something like that.

Toris walked past Arthur's desk on his way to Ivan's office, and stopped when he saw the blond inhaling some food with a glassed look on his face. "It looks like Francis has made you some food. It is very good, isn't it?"

"Sorry, I didn't see you there..." Arthur trailed off, wiping a bit off of his lips. "I guess you can say it's good... It's definitely not bad though." Great! Even though it wasn't Francis' himself that caught him devouring the food, Toris would most likely think it was a good thing to tell the Frenchman.

"Yes, once we had a Christmas party and he brought some food, and it was gone very fast." He looked around quickly to make sure his boss wasn't behind a corner and watching him to make sure he was doing work.

"Ah... Well... I better get back to work. Nice to see you again, Mr. Lorinaitis." He smiled lightly as he put the lid back on the container. Toris mumbled a quick goodbye before running off to their boss's office. Arthur could have sworn he heard a strange laugh emanating from it, but it paid it no heed.

* * *

So, I don't want to have to write the translations for every little thing Francis says in French, so if you are wondering what a word means, just ask in a review or a PM or whatever. Obviously if he says anything long I will put the translation.


	10. Chapter 10

Leaning against the wall casually, Francis laughed and tucked some hair behind his ear. Three girls were surrounding him, and he was completely unaware of their beauty. If they were of the other gender it would be different, but as it were he could only ever see them as friends. "_Oui_, I tried a Vanilla Late from that place and it was _délicieux_."

The girls all giggled as they looked up at the Frenchman. "You should teach me some French! It _is_ the language of love." One of the women had gotten closer to him and placed her hand lightly on his arm; batting her eyelashes suggestively.

Not to be undone, one of the others got closer and did the same. "'_Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?'_ Was that right?"

"_Oui c'est parfait." Yes it is perfect. _He said while inwardly cringing at the pronunciation. Why did girls always insist on battering his language when they were around him? "But, I wouldn't be saying that to men like me, we might get the wrong idea." He gave a laugh, leaning forward slightly.

Arthur glared over at the group of giggling girls. Just why were they congregating around the undignified Parisian man? And why were they giggling? There was nothing vaguely interesting about him, especially not enough to be completely infatuated with him.

He continued typing out a document on his computer, every once in a while looking over at the group of giggling buffoons. What did they see in him? More importantly, what did he see in them? They were just shallow, plastic dolls trying in vain to impress everyone with their fake looks. How could Francis even stand to be surrounded by such low-lives?

As the girls got closer and closer to the Frenchman, Arthur's typing became more furious and intense. He didn't care that they were obviously flirting; he didn't care at all. Arthur just didn't understand why he would handle being in their presence. Like he thought before: there was nothing exceptional about the man, other than the fact that he had an obvious habit of sleeping with anything that walked on two legs and could seduce anyone he wanted. Except Arthur of course; he was the one lucky exemption.

The longer they stood there, the faster and more violently the Briton hit the keys on his keyboard. This wasn't going to be good if he continued like this. 'It would be a good time for a calming cup of tea,' he thought savagely; standing up quickly. He pushed his chair out of the way when he stomped over to the staff room.

While he looked for a tea bag -It would have to do, since he seriously doubted they would have any loose tea- he put a mug of water in the microwave -again breaking the rules of proper tea making- and waited for it to heat up. Just as he found one, the machine beeped to signal that it was finished. Arthur was careful not to spill any of the boiling water as he slowly dunked the tea bag in and out of the cup, imagining it as Francis' head with a small smirk.

Taking a sip, he sighed gratefully at the soothing taste. As he took it away from his mouth, he heard the girls laugh louder and his forehead pulsed. He knew of one way to make them shut up. Take out the object of their fascination and they would finally disperse and let everyone get back to work. Normal people might not have resorted to such violence, but it was the only way the Briton could get them to shut up.

With the tea cup in hand, Arthur stomped back to where they all were and glared at Francis before swiftly dumping the tea on him. It was a waste of perfectly good tea, but maybe it would get them to all be quiet. "Now will you _please_ shut the bloody hell up?!"

Francis swore as the boiling tea splashed all over his shirt and arms. The girls gasped, one even giving a small scream of surprise. As the angry Briton stormed off, the girls started fretting about his shirt.

"Oh my God, are you ok! You should take off your shirt so you don't get burnt more!" One of them spoke up, pulling lightly on the garment. The rest all nodded in agreement. "It wouldn't be fair if your perfect body was scarred by something that... New guy did to do you!"

He gave a laugh, waving off the situation like it was nothing. "No, it's fine." He looked to his shirt. "But this will definitely stain, won't it." He sighed. "I wonder if someone here has an extra shirt."

"Well since it was his fault, you should go ask the new guy!" Even though they were all against themselves in the quest to sleep with the sexy man, they all could agree on that fact.

"Yeah, I guess..." He lifted his shirt over his head and held it in his hand. "While I go ask him, could one of you run this under water for me?" He hardly even noticed their eyes trained on his abs.

The girls all fought over the shirt before one of them held onto it almost possessively. All the while, Arthur had been hearing as his plan blew up spectacularly in his face.

"Mr. Kirkland, do you by chance have a shirt I can borrow? Mine obviously has a stain now." He said, staying far enough away so as to make sure there was no way he could touch the Englishman.

"I don't, Mr. Bonnefoy. Why don't you ask someone who would actually care." Arthur was trying unsuccessfully to continue working with the man standing behind him. How dare he be so calm when he just did that to him!

"Well, I don't know if anyone would have an extra shirt. I suppose I will just have to go around like this all day."

'Walking around with a stain would teach you humility' Arthur though viciously as he turned around and promptly started to stutter. "Wh-why don't you have a shirt on?" Did that man have no pride? He did have a nice body -not that the Briton was looking at him like that- but it was no excuse to walk around in their work place half-naked.

"Well, my shirt was fairly expensive, so I wanted to get the stain out as quickly as possible, and I wouldn't want to walk around with a stain anyway. Besides, you are the one who spilt tea on me." He shrugged.

"I wouldn't have had to if you weren't being so loud when you were flirting with that group of giggling women surrounding you. Don't you have a concept of keeping your private and work lives separate?" As much as he didn't want to, Arthur couldn't stop staring.

"I wasn't flirting. They are women, if you didn't notice, and I am gay." He said matter-of-factly. "But I should get back to work, my break is over now. I will give you your lunch a little later, if that is alright."

With an exasperated sigh, Arthur stood up and started following Francis after grabbing his jacket. "At least stop walking around without a top." He stated simply while holding out the clothes. "Just make sure you wash it by tomorrow and give it back to me." The Briton swallowed loudly as he determinedly stared at the other's face.

Francis smiled and grabbed the jacket, once again making sure he didn't brush a finger against one of Arthur's. "Why thank you. What a gentleman." Then he put the jacket on, the sleeves only slightly too short.

"You better..." He muttered threateningly. "If you stop flaunting your undesirable qualities, I won't have to do it again." He didn't even notice the slight blush that started to dust across his face.

"I would be surprised if you _really_ considered this," He lightly brushed a hand over his toned stomach, "as 'undesirable'." And he walked away to his office, to finish his work for the day.

"Bloody wanker." Running a hand through his hair, Arthur went back to his desk and continued to work. He really didn't understand just why Francis bugged him so much. All he did know was that he hated his guts; didn't he?

.oOo.

The bar was crowded, being Friday night. Francis sat down at the table, three drinks in hand. He passed Gilbert one that looked like a pink smoothie in a very dainty glass and a cherry in it. "Here you are, I got you one that suited your personality." He said, smiling as he handed Antonio a beer.

"Fuck that!" Gilbert growled, "I'll just give it to some random chick worthy of being with my awesomeness." As he finished, the German got up and looked throughout the bar. "Aha! One fucking sexy chick just waiting to spend the night with my five metres." With that, Prussia sauntered towards her table with the drink in hand after winking to his friends.

Antonio just smiled as he and Francis watched Gilbert start talking to the woman only for the conversation to quickly go downhill. Before they knew it, Gil came back with the drink still in his hand and a frown on his face. "What's wrong Gil? She not worthy after all?" The Spaniards laugh could be heard about the loud din of the bar. "At least my little Lovi will talk with me~"

"Damn queer haters. She just looked at me and said 'What's with the fruity drink you faggot?' Totally not worthy of me anyways; I decided to be a gentleman and just tell her she was fat instead of dumping this shit on her." He explained, pushing the glass away from him and calling over the waiter. "Hey, I want the most expensive and awesome beer you have. And don't forget to put it on this guy's tab." He added as an afterthought, gesturing to Francis.

"Ha, try again. You have a job, so you get to pay." Francis laughed, already looking through the people in the bar for his date tonight. "So, how is Lovino doing, anyway? He is usually the reason you come to drink, _non_?"

Gilbert just laughed and hit the Parisian's back hard. "Yeah, but you're the one that caused me to still be here. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be in the alley having sex by now. How about the last person here has to pay for them all, _ja_?" With that, he gestured for the bartender to get the drink.

After he took a quick sip, Antonio answered after the German stopped talking. "_Sí_, that is usually the reason, but _mi amor_ is starting to open up more. Last time we talked, he didn't hit me when I called him cute! He just got all red and started muttering how I was a 'tomato bastard'. But from him, that is a compliment!"

"Hm, last person pays? Alright. If I remember correctly, you had to pay last time, when we were in Las Vegas, _oui_? That was a fun trip. I had such a cute partner the last night."

"But not as cute as _su inglesito_ at your work." Antonio smiled, winking leisurely. "It was fun other than the fact I felt bad cheating on _mi pequeño tomate_." He then took a larger sip, grimacing a bit at the bitter taste. Wine was much more to his taste; especially when it was paired with one of Lovi's amazing pasta dishes.

While they were talking, Gilbert was busying himself with wracking up a large bill for the unfortunate loser. He vowed since last time in Las Vegas that he'd never lose again, so he wanted to make sure that whoever got the bill would be crushed by the sheer amount of beer the proud German could stomach. He had both a liver and a bladder of steel; nothing was going to stop him except an awesomely hot person to fuck.

Francis spotted his partner for the night. From the back he wasn't anything spectacular, but he had these brilliantly green eyes that were hypnotizing. "Well, while this is fun, I doubt either of you are going to give me much pleasure tonight, so I will go seduce that innocent-looking boy over there." He took the fruity drink from Gilbert's hand to give it to the man.

Both Gilbert and Antonio watched their friend make his way to the man he was talking about. "_Verdammt!_ Why can he get guys so easily? I bet he hasn't gone a single night without fucking someone since he lost his virginity." The German pounded his fist on the table. "He's not even as awesome as me! How come he's going to get laid and I'm not?"

With a small sigh, the Spaniard just swirled his drink in his glass. "He was just born with natural French charisma, don't get too worked up." What Antonio didn't say was that he was already eyeing a cute little brunet across the room with the most adorable pout. He didn't care if he got a kick in the shin or a wonderful night in bed; he was going to talk to him.

Gilbert didn't even notice as his friend got up and left him alone until he was done his third beer, which meant he was left with the bill. Again. Everyone was probably just amazed by his awesomeness so they didn't want to ruin it. Yeah, that's why he hadn't gotten a fuck buddy yet.... _Scheiße. _Maybe he would just go home and chill with his bro. At least he was worthy of being around the awesomeness that is Gilbert.

* * *

Alright, so when Francis was talking to those girls, and one of them said _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir, _that is from a song. It means, for any of you that don't already know, Do you want to sleep with me tonight.

And, if you caught that small mention, the week that Francis wasn't there, the three of them had gone to Vegas. Just thought I should mention it, because we didn't get any other chance to really say it.


	11. Chapter 11

Holding the container of food, Francis stood there, wondering where Arthur was. He wasn't at his desk, and now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen him all day. He put the container back in his desk and went to his boss's office.

"Ivan, is Arthur sick today?"

"Da, he is."

"Well, would it be alright if I took a sick day too so I can go see if he is alright? Knowing him he would die because he is too lazy to get some food." He gave a small laugh.

"Yes you may."

"Can you tell me his address? I have never been to his house before." He dreaded the answer, knowing too well that he would have to do something.

"No."

"If I give you a blow job?"

"Alright."

Francis went over to the desk as Ivan undid his pants. Soon he had a mouth full of Russian cock, something he was quite used to.

.oOo.

Arthur sneezed again before hiding back under his blankets. Someone must really have a grudge against him for him to be this sick. If it was just a small cold, there would be no reason for him to stay home, but he felt as if someone ran him over with a truck and stuffed his head full of cotton.

Just as he started getting as comfortable as his sickness would allow, Arthur's phone started to ring. With an exasperated sigh, he got up after wrapping the blankets around him and answered the phone. "What the bloody hell do you want? If you're Alfred, go die in a tar filled hole."

Francis made his voice sound American as he spoke into the speakers. "I have a delivery for a Mr. Kirkland. May I come up?"

"...Fine..." He muttered as he pressed the button to unlock the main doors. It better be a bloody good delivery if they were coming when he was sick. When he heard knocking, Arthur continued to sniffle all wrapped up in his blankets as he answered it.

"Arthur!" Francis pushed his way into the small apartment and put some food on the counter. "I am here to take care of you, so go lie down and don't worry about a thing. I will make some chicken soup!"

"You fucking wanker! How dare you lie to me to get in my house!" Arthur yelled only to have a coughing fit. "I demand that you get out right now and never come back!" How did he even know where the Briton lived? It wasn't as if he had ever told him.

"And how do you expect to force me out in your condition? Now go to bed." He shooed the man away and started getting ingredients ready for chicken soup. He had stopped at the grocery store on his way there, knowing the blond wouldn't have any decent food.

Arthur watched Francis unload all the ingredients for a second before he started pushing the wavy-haired man out of his kitchen. "Get. Out! I don't want you here! If you don't get out soon, I won't hesitate to cough on you and make you sick as well." Deep down he was somewhat touched that _someone_ cared enough about him to take care of him, but he would have never realized it was making him only lightly push the Frenchman out.

"Haha, just you try. It's not as if I will molest you. Haven't we already had this conversation?" He resisted the pathetic push towards the door, not leaving no matter what.

"It's not that..." Arthur mumbled, still trying to push the man out. "I just don't need your help. I'm an adult and thus perfectly capable to take care of myself." He turned away just in time to sneeze and look pathetically at Francis. "I will cough on you. Then you'll be sick and I'll make sure to tell everyone that you died from having too many STDs."

"It's alright, I never get sick. Now will you do as I say and lay down?" He continued getting the soup ready. "If you don't go lay down, I won't give you any soup. And I know how much you love my cooking."

"Fine. But it's only because I'm hungry and couldn't be bothered to try and stop you any more, not because I like your food." Arthur pulled the blankets over him more and walked over to his bed and ungracefully fell onto it. It wasn't too long before even with his stuffed nose he could smell the aroma of the soup.

When he was finished making the soup, Francis brought it to the bed and gave the bowl to the sick man. "Eat up. Here is some water. If you need anything else, here is a bell, and I will arrive as soon as I hear it, as your humble butler."

Arthur took the bowl and glared pitifully up at Francis. "What I _want_ is for you to leave me the bloody hell alone! Better yet, if you actually want to help me, go kill yourself. You'll be doing a good thing for more than just me."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be watching some TV. Call me when you're finished with your dishes, and then you should get some sleep. It's the best thing for colds! Oh, by the way, do you have a fever?"

"How would I know? I can't feel it myself if I do." Arthur just grumbled, taking a quick sip of the soup. He couldn't taste it as well as he could if he weren't sick, but he could still tell just how heavenly it was. As much as he hated to admit it, it was much better than anything he could ever make.

"Well, I would feel your forehead, but I can't touch you. Do you have a thermometer around here anywhere?" He looked around the room as if expecting to see one on the wall.

Barely suppressing a sigh of disbelief, Arthur just shook his head. "Idiot. It doesn't matter for things like that, it's only so you don't molest me. Unless you want to be one ball short for the rest of your life."

"... Are you by chance on any medication right now?" Francis said as he stepped forward to feel his forehead. It was indeed very hot.

"Like I'd want to go through this _without_ being on medication." Arthur answered simply after Francis took his cool hand off his forehead. "I would have to be completely bonkers."

"Hm, that explains it." Francis pulled the blankets up to Arthur's chin. "Like I said, call me to take away your dishes."

Instead of answering, Arthur just continued to eat. It really was good soup unfortunately. How did he ever survive just eating the food he made himself or got from restaurants?

When he was done, he just put his dishes on his bedside table without calling Francis in. If he didn't need his help, maybe he would just leave. Arthur let his eyes slowly slide closed as he slipped into a drug and sickness induced slumber.

The Frenchman walked in with a wet cloth and put it on the sleeping man's forehead to cool it down a little. Then he took the dishes away and put them in the sink. He took a second to find dish soap, and when he did he filled up the sink. He might as well clean up. It wasn't like Arthur would be doing it any time soon.

* * *

Short chapter is short. Hope you liked it anyway!


	12. Chapter 12

A few days had passed and Arthur was still sick at home. Well, he wasn't really _sick_, but Francis still thought he was. And that was the important part.

He was truly sick for about a day after the man had first gotten into his apartment, and ever since then he had been taking care of the Englishman and helping him slowly get better. Not only was he giving him water, medicine and the like, but he had insisted on making all his meals for him. He complained at first, but eventually didn't even take the time to say thank you before he inhaled it. Since he was better now too, he could taste the food perfectly; making it more difficult not to exclaim just how wonderful it really was.

"Hurry up you git. Letting you be in my apartment should be enough of a reason to get me some water." He made sure to cough afterwards so that he could keep the illusion going.

"Yes _dear_, here you go." Francis said with a smile as he gave the blond a glass of water, making sure to brush against his finger as he grabbed it. He finally had permission to touch him so he was going to do anything he wanted.

When Francis' fingers lightly brushed his own, the Briton just glared up at him instead of jumping. He had been doing small little gestures ever since he said it was ok to touch him but not molest him. "You better be sarcastic about the 'dear' comment." He snarled.

"Of course, honey. Totally sarcastic." He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, once again cooking. The last few days had been nice, just spending the time here. He slept on the couch which wasn't the best, but he had slept in worse places. Usually with at least one other body pressed against his, but this still wasn't bad.

Arthur tried unsuccessfully to ignore just how his face flushed from the pet name. Why did he have to embarrass him so much? He could smell the delicious food from the kitchen and his stomach gurgled painfully. Damn that Frenchman for turning him into some sort of a pseudo-gourmet.

Halfway through cooking, the phone rang. "_Bonjour_?" He said into the receiver. The tone for the ring had been a little strange, so he guessed that it was someone wanting to get in.

"Hey." Alfred said outside, hands in his pockets. "Francis? Whatever, just let me in. It's cold out here."

He shrugged and pushed the button to let him in.

"Why did you answer my phone, frog? Who was it?" Arthur yelled from the bedroom, staying huddled under all the blankets.

"They pressed the wrong button, actually. They wanted the people next door. You should go to sleep, with you being so sick and all. Even if you don't have a fever anymore."

He paused before retorting. "Whatever. Wake me up when the food is ready. Please." Arthur had started becoming a bit uneasy about lying to Francis about being sick, but why would he give up having his personal chef? Sure he looked at the Briton like a piece of meat sometimes, but as long as he didn't touch him inappropriately he could deal with it.

The door opened and Alfred walked in, seeing Francis. He looked at him for a second, and then peeked into Arthur's room, seeing him in bed, sleeping. "So, you guys did it?"

"I wish. He's sick, so I'm taking care of him."

Alfred lifted his eyebrow. "He told me he was sick on Saturday. There is no way he's still sick. You know he's faking, don't you?" He looked in the cupboard and grabbed a piece of bread, gnawing on a chunk.

"_Oui_, I know. But I don't mind cooking for him, seeing him in bed, sleeping. And having an excuse to touch him is nice as well." He smiled and gave a wink. "But this time I did not give him a hickey."

Blue eyes went wide in amazement. "So that _was_ you! He said it wasn't!"

"Oh, he doesn't remember at all. He was quite drunk at the time. So why don't we keep that as our little secret, _non_?"

"Sure whatever. I still haven't told him what he's like when he's drunk, so no big deal." He went to sit at the couch and turned on the TV. "So, you plannin' to fuck him?"

Sitting down beside him, Francis laughed. "What do you think?"

Arthur started to stir when he heard voices come from the living room. It didn't just sound like the TV... Was he just hearing random voices? One was definitely Francis', but who did the other belong to? Just who else was in his apartment?

"Whoever else is here, you bloody well get out before I get my shotgun!" He warned, wrapping himself up in the blankets again before he shuffled out of the room. He didn't have a gun, but it was the best thing he could intimidate someone with.

To the Briton's surprise, when he looked into his living room he saw Francis and Alfred sitting on his couch and watching TV like they've known each other for years. Well, they probably did, but that didn't mean they were allowed to use Arthur's living room as a 'hang out' spot. "Alfred! Just what in the bloody hell are you doing here?! Is it 'Let's all bother Arthur' week or something!? Get out of my house!" As an after thought, he threw in a light cough. After all, he was still 'sick'.

Alfred laughed at the pathetic cough. "Ya, you're not making anyone believe you're sick. You would have to be a total idiot to believe that you're sick, and that's coming from me; a total idiot."

"Well..." He started off, trying to think of a way he could respond so Francis would stay and make him food. Not that he still wanted him in his apartment or anything. "He believes me. If he didn't why would he still be nice enough to take care of me? If anything your just jealous because he was acting the part of a 'friend' better than you." As he finished, he sat down on the couch, making Alfred move over so he didn't sit on him.

Francis laughed. "I'm not stupid enough to believe something like that, Arthur." He put his arm around the blond's shoulders. "But if I still take care of you, can I still do this?"

"Get your bloody hands off of me!" The Englishman yelled, all but ripping the arm off of him and accidentally hitting Alfred in the process. "I didn't say you could touch me like that!"

"Can _I_ touch you like that?" Alfred said jokingly, leaning in. Well, maybe it wasn't as much as a joke as he let on, but Arthur would never know that.

Arthur seethed. "Keep your hands off me too _Jones_. Why do I even bother with you two imbeciles? I'd be better off in a bar somewhere getting drunk right now then trying to keep you two in line. If you have the need to act immature, why don't you two go out and do so alone? Leave me here to drink and never come back! Actually... I like that idea." He concluded, standing up from the war against him and walked towards his kitchen. There was a nicely aged bottle of rum he brought over from England and he hadn't had the chance to have a glass. Now would be perfect.

"Well, I might as well leave now, so _au revoir_, Alfred." Francis got off the couch and walked to the door, making sure to go through the kitchen and passing Arthur on his way. "Don't worry, I will go back to not touching you now."

"I would expect that." Arthur grumbled as he poured himself a generous glass of alcohol. Not only now was Alfred here to bug him about everything and anything, but the bloody frog wasn't going to be here to make every meal for him. He was back to fish and chips and scones: his two precious stand-bys.

Nursing the glass between his hands, he didn't look up as Alfred sat in the chair beside him.

Alfred sat silent for a minute, taking the occasional sip from Arthur's glass. Then he looked up at the blond. "So, you plannin' to fuck him?" He asked in a perfect imitation of his earlier question to Francis.

After just taking a sip, Arthur spat part of the rum out and choked on the little bit he managed to swallow. 'Just what are you trying to get at?' was what he wanted to say, but through both choking and trying to breathe, all he could say was, "What?"

"Well, from the look on your face when he said the thing about not touching you, the fact that you lied to get him to stay here for a couple days, and the fact that he's really hot, I'm guessing you want to fuck him." He said matter-of-factly. "The only question is if you will let your pride go enough for it or not."

"The question has nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with my morals. I completely refuse to sleep with anyone with a record such as his." Arthur stated determinedly. "What I want to know is why you're so adamant about me being with him. Did he pay you or something?" Despite his harsh words, his gaze has slipped from his friend's face to his glass. Even though he asked, he didn't want to know if that was the truth.

Alfred shrugged and stole the glass from the slender hands and drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the burning feeling and the shout of outrage as he did so. "Maybe I just want you to be happy." So what if he was happy with someone else? At least he wouldn't see him in a depressed slump like he was prone to get into sometimes, and that was all that mattered, right?

Another few tense seconds passed between them as neither said anything. Eventually, Arthur got up and grabbed another glass, pouring both of them some more rum. Sure Alfred was underage, but neither of them could care less at the moment. "Sorry... It's just... I really don't know what it is, to be completely honest." Mumbling, he continued to stare at his glass and thus missing the forlorn look on Alfred's face. It was rare for the American to act so mature, and for once he was somewhat enjoying the others company.

"Just... give him a chance. I hate seeing the lonely look you get on your face sometimes, and I haven't seen that for a while. I doubt that's because you moved to New York, so I'm guessing it's cause of Francis." It wouldn't be because he moved closer to his friend. They were just friends, after all. Thanks to the Internet, they didn't really have to be near each other at all.

"...I'll try, but I can't give you any promises. He is insanely flirtatious and he has a sadly impressive list of one-night stands." Arthur admitted, running his pointer finger in random designs on the table top. "Plus he just has the _attitude_ like he can get anyone he wants; the worse thing is that he can!" Taking another sip, he finally looked up at Alfred's face with glossy green eyes. He was sober enough to realize what he said, but not necessarily the weight of it.

"Well, he _is_ pretty hot." Alfred smiled his old smile, not able to deal with the serious atmosphere. If it continued, he could end up saying things he would regret.

Arthur took another long drink. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed due to trying to protect my vital regions from his wandering hand." He half growled, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you have been doing." Alfred rolled his eyes. "So, when are you gonna fuck him?" He took a swig of his alcohol, liking the fuzzy feeling it was giving his brain.

"And why, pray tell, does the conversation continue to gravitate to that? Maybe I never will; then what will you say?" Arthur was slowly but surely becoming more and more inebriated. Each sip made his grin widen and his mouth loosen.

"The conversation is like you, and sex is like Francis. They always gravitate together." Alfred smiled, proud of himself to be able to come up with that considering the booze.

He waited until he refilled both of their glasses before continuing. "So if opposites attract, what about similar things? If I became more like him, would that mean he would let me be? Maybe I should start with you." With his last comment, Arthur let out a rare laugh. "Just kidding. But honestly, do you think he would lose interest in me then? I can be happy by myself after all."

So used to comments like that, Alfred hid the twinge in his chest perfectly. "Like you could ever be a slut. The only times you sleep with random people is when you're really drunk, and that hardly ever happens."

"It was worth a shot though." He muttered from behind his glass. Just like every other time he had alcohol, he had gradually started to open up and express just how he felt. There was a small part that liked the Frenchman, but when he was sober it was completely shut out. "...Alfred?"

"Yeah?" He said, unused to this open Arthur, but not hating it.

"Obviously since you're here you have no where better to be, so why don't you just stay here tonight? I'd feel terrible letting you drive your twisted death machine drunk." He muttered to his glass, too shy to look Alfred in the eye. What if he took it the wrong way based on his last comment? Arthur just wanted to have someone around. It was strange, but having Francis around had been somewhat addicting because he was so used to being alone.

Crap, why was Arthur doing this to him? "Yeah sure. I get the couch, I guess?" He better not say bed. They were both drunk, and Alfred knew that if they were in the same bed he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I couldn't do that. You can take the bed and I'll sleep on the couch. God knows how uncomfortable the bloody thing is." Even though he was the one to say it, it gave him a weird feeling in his chest. Was it because he made Francis sleep on it despite that? No, he could never feel more then contempt for the Frenchman... Right?

With a sigh of relief, Alfred smiled. "Alright, well I hope you don't change your mind, cause I don't wanna sleep on that lumpy-ass couch." He got up and went to the bedroom. "I don't have any PJ's! Is it alright if I sleep in my boxers?"

"Whatever. Just as long as you don't do anything that either of us will regret later, I don't care if you sleep naked." Arthur responded, finishing off his glass and then doing the same to Alfred's. "Just let me get one of my pillows first if you're going to do that."

Waiting for the blond to get his pillow, Alfred stood in the room. He wouldn't get naked when Arthur was there of course. It wouldn't be as bad as the other way around, but especially when he was drunk it wouldn't be a very good idea.

After he grabbed the pillow, Arthur walked back to the door. He was already in pyjamas so he didn't need to get changed. "Good night Alfred, I hope you have a good sleep."

Yeah right, like _that_ was going to be possible. "K, night." He mumbled, acting tired. Arthur left the room, and Alfred lay down in the bed, only to find how much it smelt like the blond. Damn, now he _definitely_ wasn't going to get any sleep.

As soon as he lay down on the couch, the first thing Arthur noticed was that it was covered with Francis' smell. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it felt somewhat awkward at first before he slowly fell into a gentle sleep. Somehow, having the smell had made it easier to fall asleep on the uncomfortable couch.


	13. Chapter 13

Francis sat back in his chair, manuscript in hand. He didn't like this one too much. It was rather boring. But his job was to edit it, not tell the author to just give up and not waste his time.

Needless to say, he was bored. So when he spotted a certain German outside his door, he called him over. Distractions were nice, especially if he could use them to brag to his friend about later. "_Bonjour_, Ludwig! Can you come in here for a second, please?"

"Certainly." Ludwig said, walking into Francis' office. He stood awkwardly in front of his desk. "What do you need me for?"

"Well, remember when we slept together and your brother found out? And that was when Gilbert and I met?" Francis asked, standing up from his chair and walking to where Ludwig was standing, so he was in between the sexy Frenchman and the desk.

The German started down at the man who was effectively trapping him. "Yes, I remember, but why bring it up again? Are you saying you want to sleep with me again?" Not like he would say no, considering how well the shorter man knew his way around the bed, but he would feel awkward about it. For one his brother would most likely kill both of them, and Ludwig knew that Feliciano would be distraught.

"Well, why not? We are both men, so we are both susceptible to our... desires, _non_?" He leaned in closer, putting his hand on the desk. "I am sure Gilbert would not mind." Which was an outright lie, but oh well, he hadn't had sex all last week, and the weekend hadn't fully made up for it.

"Just don't tell _mein brüder_ this time. I know he will mind if you say anything about it."

"_D'accord_." He said, leaning in and locking his lips with firm German ones. His other hand went up to tangle itself in the stiff hair that was gelled in place. He messed it up, liking the way Ludwig looked with it down rather than slicked back like it always was.

As they continued to kiss, Ludwig entangled his own hand in Francis' wavy hair. He wasn't going to let him top without fighting it a least a bit.

At the same time, Arthur had come back to work after taking the last week off due to 'sickness'. Since he was still in the middle of the blasted French-speckled manuscript, he had continued to edit it. Before he was a page into the chapter he was working on, there were already two full sentences in French. Just what was the author thinking when they wrote it?

Well, if there was French, that meant he had to go talk to Francis. It was definitely going to be awkward, considering how they had last seen each other. Arthur hadn't even said 'Thank you' for taking a week off to take care of him.

Picking up the manuscript, Arthur made his way over to the Frenchman's office. He was somewhat surprised to see the door open, but he just knocked lightly on the door frame before standing there shocked at just what was happening inside.

Not really caring who was at the door, Francis tried to continue making out with Ludwig, but the other man had completely frozen. Really, why did people always care when they were caught doing things like this? Everyone did them, so it shouldn't matter...

It was then that he saw just who was at the door. Well, this was unfortunate. "Arthur..." He shouldn't be feeling guilty, really. They weren't dating, so this was perfectly fine, right? So he smiled, still pinning the tall German to the desk. "Yes?"

"There's more French in this chapter. I would appreciate it if you could go over it and return it to my desk when you're done with it. Sorry for interrupting you." Arthur's voice was monotone as he threw the manuscript by the two of them and walked out of the doorway determinedly. Once he was away from the two of them, he started to run blindly away; unsure where he was trying to escape to. All he knew at that point was that he wanted to put as much distance between himself and that face-sucking French monstrosity.

"Arthur!" Francis left Ludwig to run after the blond, not quite sure what he was doing. It didn't look like the Englishman knew or cared where he was running, so it was a good thing there was no one around right now. "Arthur, stop!" He reached out to grab his shoulder to stop him, but as soon as he did he remembered he wasn't supposed to be touching him, so he let go after just a light brush.

"You fucking idiot!" Arthur turned around and yelled at the Parisian. "At least do the courteous thing and shut your door if you're going to snog someone's face off in your office! And you don't have to be so bloody careful around me! I'm not going to break if you touch me!"

Francis noticed that there were some tears accumulating in the corners of Arthur's eyes which he wiped them away with his sleeve. "I didn't mean for you to see that..." He said, taking a step closer, trying to get the Englishman to look him in the eye instead of the floor.

Blinking back the strange tears, Arthur just continued to yell. "If you shut your door this would have never happened! You could have still been sucking Ludwig's face off right now and then proceed to have sex with him!" His hands had clenched tightly by his side and his eyebrows furrowed together.

In reality, the thing that he was the most annoyed with was himself. Just why was he letting the obviously scandalous semi-private life of Francis bother him? He knew he was a whore, for lack of a better word. Why did the fact he was making out with someone other than _him_ piss him off this much? Wait, did he want to kiss the man? Arthur could never want that!

"That was only because I was bored, really. I mean not to say Ludwig isn't good in bed, but still, he's very unadventurous, if you know what I mean." Another step forward and Francis was close enough to wipe off an escaped tear with his thumb.

"Then get a normal hobby if you get bored easily! That's what normal people do!" He had violently hit away Francis' hand from his face. Just what did he think he was doing, trying to suck up to him after that? "Leave me alone and let me be. I have more work to do and you have more pressing matters to attend to. I bet he's wondering just where you are."

"Well, my hobby _was_ teasing you, but then you didn't want me to touch you anymore." He gave a small smile. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"That's not a normal hobby..." He muttered, trying to ignore the blush that spread across his face at the question. Ever since he and Alfred talked those couple of days ago, Arthur had wondered just what he would do in a situation similar to this. Now that it was actually happening, he had no idea just what to do.

"You didn't answer my question." Francis gave a serious face, playing his part. Maybe this would turn out to be a good turn of events, after all. He wondered what Ludwig had done when he just left him there.

Arthur stared at the ground intently, his green eyes shimmering. "Well, I don't like you... But I also don't particularly hate you either..." Why was he admitting his feelings to him? He hadn't even admitted them to himself completely yet!

Francis smiled. "You don't like me, so that means you love me! Well, I love you too." He wrapped his arms around the light frame, holding him tightly so he would have to work at getting out of it.

"I said I didn't like you, that doesn't insinuate anything else!" Arthur grumbled as he fought to get out of the tight embrace. "Take it back." He mumbled after trying unsuccessfully to become free.

"I'm not going to take it back." He kissed the top of Arthur's head. He then glanced back towards his office to see the door closed, so Ludwig had most likely already left and closed it on his way out. "I'll prove it to you." He quickly put his arms around Arthur's knees and hoisted him on his shoulder.

Fighting desperately, Arthur tried to be put back on the ground. "Let go of me _now!_ I don't want you to prove anything!" He tried hitting, kicking and writhing to get off Francis' shoulder, but to no avail.

"I disagree. I think you want me to prove _exactly _how much I love you." He opened his door with one hand while trying not to drop the struggling man on his shoulder. Once inside, he made sure to close and lock the door. With this, he didn't want a repeat of the scene before.

"Let. Me. Out." He growled as he was let go. Arthur went to go unlock the door, but Francis stood in between with a smirk on his face. "This is not good..." He mumbled to himself. What was he going to do to prove that he 'loved' him? And why did they have to be in his office? His _sound proof _office...

"Actually, this is _very_ good." Francis went up close to Arthur once again and matched their lips together, running his tongue along the Englishman's tightly closed ones. He was half-heartedly pushed away, but their lips didn't part. Francis started moving them over to the desk, glad that Ludwig was gone. Arthur still wouldn't open his mouth, so the Parisian put a hand between their bodies and squeezed the hardening cock there.

As he gasped, he felt Francis' tongue start to languidly explore his mouth. How dare he use his unfortunate response to the situation for his own gain! After a few seconds, he slowly started to push back with his own tongue. He didn't really want to dominate the kiss at this point, but he was starting to become intrigued.

Arthur had wondered for the last few nights just what it would be like to kiss him, and now he was finally getting a first hand knowledge. Just as he thought, he was using techniques that the Briton would never have thought of. Because of it, he let out an airy moan which made him pull away embarrassed; a blush engulfing his face.

"What, don't you like it? Or maybe you just want me to kiss other places..." Francis said, his voice low and seductive. He bent his head to suck on the pale neck, making sure this time not to leave a mark. Then with his hands he started undoing Arthur's pants. He heard another gasp as he slipped his hand in, touching the tip of the hard cock.

"B-bastard!" Arthur managed to get out as his prick was being fondled. "I could g-get you put in j-jail for sexually molesting me at w-work!" He moaned again but louder as Francis nipped his earlobe and continued to lightly touch his growing erection.

"But then I will tell them just how much you like it." Francis breathed in his ear at the same time that he fully took out Arthur's cock from the confines of his pants. He smirked at the size of it already. "Or better yet, _show_ them."

Grabbing tightly onto the desk behind him, Arthur snarled. "You bloody well wont, you giant wanker!" He was enjoying the attention, but it was marred by the fact that he knew that even if it wasn't himself, Francis would just find someone else to sweet talk into doing this.

"Mm, that's right. I wouldn't want anyone else to see you like this." With that, he left that beautiful neck, that perfect ear, and went down to the lewd cock. Of course, this wasn't the first time that he had seen it, and it wouldn't even be the first time he had tasted it, but this time at least Arthur would remember it. Francis gave one long lick up the shaft and felt the blond tremble.

"Stop!" He growled, pushing Francis' head away with his hands. "I don't want my suit to get dirty..."

"Don't worry, I'll swallow it all." Francis smiled and went back to the shaft. His hand grabbed the base and he caressed the underside of the head with his tongue. With his other hand, the Frenchman fondled Arthur's ball sack, the movement limited because they were still part way in his pants.

Arthur shuddered again at all the attention on his lower half. He tried desperately to keep silent, but little gasps kept escaping from his lips. To stop himself, he took one of his hands off of Francis' head and put it over his mouth.

Despite just how embarrassed he was at the moment, he couldn't help but spread his legs a bit wider. Normally he would only do this sort of thing when he was completely plastered, but somehow the Frenchman was able to make him act like this totally sober.

If it wasn't for the stupid pants, Francis would have already had a finger in Arthur's hole, stretching him for penetration. But this _was_ their place of employment, after all. It required some boundaries. So instead he took the shaft in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to increase the pressure. His own cock was getting hard, but he knew self control very well. Not as well as Antonio perhaps, with his stubborn boyfriend, but still very well.

The hand that was still on Francis' head grabbed sharply at his hair as Arthur started thrusting lightly. The man's mouth was just as talented as he figured it would be; not that he wanted to think of the reason just _why_ it was so talented at the moment. All he cared about was reaching orgasm. He didn't even think twice about the growing bulge in the Parisian's trousers.

Taking the hand away from his balls, Francis used it to instead hold down the greedily thrusting hips. He didn't mind deep-throating, but he wanted it to be on his own terms. He took his mouth off the cock and instead dipped his tongue into the slit on top. With the hand had been holding the base of the shaft, the Frenchman pulled lightly at the curly blond hair.

Even through his hand, Arthur's guttural moan echoed in the office. As his cock was licked, he brought his hand back down to the desk so he could widen his stance even more. "Y-you bastaahhhhhhh!" He groaned as the head of his prick was sucked forcefully.

By now his entire body was flushed red from just what they were doing, and _where_. Anyone could come knocking on the door, knowing full well that Francis was in here with someone else. What if Mr. Braginski found out? Would he be fired? All similar thoughts flew out of his head as his 'other' head continued to get increasing amounts of attention.

Francis dipped his head down the whole way suddenly, only gagging slightly as he deep-throated Arthur's cock. He could feel it at the back of his mouth, precum dripping down his throat. He swallowed, creating pressure on the head; right where he knew Arthur wanted it. The muscles in the Englishman's hips tensed up, wanting to move, so Francis knew he was getting close.

With another moan –this time higher in pitch- he keened. "You b-bloody f-frog, I'm going to..." He was cut off by his own yelling as he came violently into the mouth around his cock. Arthur shuddered as he watched Francis swallow and slowly bring him off the high from his climax.

Once his dick was free, his legs gave way from under him and he collapsed in front of the desk, leaning his head on it. He hated to admit it, but that was probably the best orgasm he had in his life; and they didn't even have sex.

Wiping off the little bit of cum that had escaped from the sides of his mouth, Francis sat down in front of Arthur and smiled. "Now do you still want me to go around not touching you? Because then you will never again feel like that, because I give the best blow job in all of New York, possibly in all of America."

"I don't want you to touch me ever." He mumbled weakly, closing his eyes. His pants were still down and his cock was covered in saliva but he just wanted to have a quick power-nap.

Francis sat back so he wasn't facing Arthur. He unzipped his pants and brought out his own painfully hard cock, wanting to deal with it quickly. "I haven't had to jerk myself off for so long." He said quietly, not caring if Arthur heard him or not.

When Francis turned around and he heard the obvious sound of his zipper being undone, Arthur's blush returned in full force. He had been totally oblivious to the other's 'needs' that he hadn't even thought to offer to take care of it. "I can... You know... If you want me to..." Arthur mumbled quickly.

Sighing delightedly, Francis mumbled a quick yes, hardly even aware of what Arthur had said, which is why he was a little surprised when the blond shuffled up behind him and put a tentative hand over his own. He smiled and tilted his head back a bit, seeing only a mass of un-brushed blond hair. "So I can't touch you but you can touch me?"

"Shut up and let me help." Arthur muttered, looking over his shoulder at their hands over Francis' throbbing length. At first he was the one to set the pace, but soon he had to hurriedly match the Frenchman's speed. Obviously he wasn't enjoying it as much as he could. "Slow down. You're acting like a teen with their first crush."

"Sorry, I didn't know you liked this so much." Obediently, Francis slowed down, not minding at all the fact that Arthur was helping him out. "If you give me a kiss this will be better for both of us." He smiled flippantly, not expecting the Englishman to do it.

Arthur just growled, taking the smile as a challenge. With his other hand, he grabbed his wavy hair and pulled it back slightly so he could attack his mouth. He could faintly taste himself, and it slightly put him off, but he dealt with it. His other hand continued moving Francis' along his cock leisurely; every once in a while going up to rub the head with his palm.

Francis smiled into the kiss, once again pleasantly surprised by the blond. He slipped his tongue into the awaiting mouth, having a little war over dominance. Their hands moved simultaneously over his cock, the feeling different somehow from when others did it to him.

Not needing to hold back his orgasm, he climaxed over both of their hands. Luckily none of it had gotten on their suits. He knew from experience that it would be a difficult stain to try to explain to someone.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at his now sticky hand as he helped Francis' ride out his orgasm as well. Great... How was he going to get to the bathroom without anyone seeing that? "Francis... Do you by any chance have some tissues or something?" Now that he was done, the blush had returned on his face in full force.

"Of course." He reached up to the top of his desk, and after a second of fumbling around brought down a box of Kleenex. He took one for himself and gave the other to Arthur, who quickly got the cum off his hand. Francis leaned forward and kissed him once again, not letting him pull away. After a few minutes the Frenchman let him go and said to the slightly flustered blond, "Come to my house after work?"

"Yeah whatever." With that, he put himself back in his trousers and zipped them up. Anyone with half a brain would be able to tell from his puffy lips and his even more messed up hair –not to mention his blush- that something had happened inside Francis' office, but he wasn't thinking of that. In all honesty, he wasn't thinking about much at the moment.

Francis smiled as he did up his own pants. "Well, you should get back to work, considering the amount you missed last week."

"Shite!" He exclaimed, jumping up quickly and almost falling back down from the head rush. Arthur didn't even spare a second before running out of the room and going to the bathroom to wash off his hands. Just as quick as he went to the bathroom, he went to his cubicle and started to work. Hopefully no one really paid attention to the fact that he hadn't been at his desk for a while.

He continued editing the manuscript before he stopped and swore in his head again. The other chapter! Francis still had it! And where they were was where he threw it!

Arthur once again hurried over to the Frenchman's office and knocked loudly. "Open up you sodding wanker!"

"That is not a nice term for someone who just sucked you off." Francis said when he opened the door, manuscript in hand. "I found one mistake. I think it is a very good exchange, we both cum and I fix the manuscript. I should start demanding that from now on."

"Shut the bloody hell up you wine-faced git..." Arthur just grumbled, trying to ignore the blush that seemed to like being on his face whenever he was around the man. He grabbed it from his grasp and stormed back to his desk. Curse him for having such control over his emotions and body.


	14. Chapter 14

Francis draped his arms around Arthur's shoulders. "So, you're coming to my house now? My car is in underground parking."

Pushing the arm off of his, Arthur just muttered "Unfortunately," and followed Francis to the elevator. He watched with glaring eyes as he pressed the button for the parking lot. Arthur should have realized that he would have his own car, but he just never really thought about it before.

Being in the elevator reminded Francis of the night he had first met Arthur, and they made out in one. Those poor old ladies. Unfortunately, _this_ elevator was filled with people. No chance for making out in here. They got to the parking lot and walked to the car, their footsteps echoing in the cement room.

When they got to Francis' car, the Briton wasn't sure whether to sneer or gasp in awe. He opted for the former. "You have a Peugeot? How incredibly _French_ of you."

"_Oui, je l'adore_." He said, getting in the driver's side. "So I am very surprised you are being so obedient today. Do you have a brain tumour, or have you been abducted by an alien and are in fact a clone?" He said turning on the car as Arthur got in the next seat.

"Considering Alfred is constantly trying to get me to believe in aliens, I'll go for the latter." Even he was confused to just why he accepted the invitation. He knew just what would most likely happen there, and the thing was: he didn't mind. Sure he would never say it outright, but in his mind he was actually hoping that would happen.

"Well, since that seems to be the case," Francis said, pulling out of the parking lot into the sunlight outside, "why don't you give me head now?"

"Bastard!" Arthur yelled, his face going bright red from the memories of earlier. "How about I rip it off right now and do the world a favour?!"

"I really think that would be the exact opposite of a favour to the world, especially for you. But I had no problem doing it for you, so I don't see what the problem is." Francis said, looking straight ahead at the road. "And I can put my seat back so there is enough space for you."

Flustered, Arthur just continued to yell. "And get myself killed if you lose concentration? I think not." Why did this man have such control over him?

"I've never crashed all the other time I've gotten road head." He said, smiling. The traffic was terrible, but it always was at this time of day. He was just trying to make it a little bit more fun.

"All the more reason to say 'No'." He grumbled while trying to sink into the seat of the car and disappear. What had compelled him to actually go with the Frenchman? Alfred did say he wanted Arthur to at least give him a chance... And that was all he was doing, nothing more.

"Well then this is going to be a really boring car ride. So why not tell me your sexual history?" Francis asked, glancing at the passenger seat. "I want to know how many people you have slept with and what positions you have had."

"Once again, no. I have no reason to tell you anything about my sexual history. I would say that you didn't have to either but I'm already too late."

"Come on! Have you tried it standing up? Did you ride on top? Ever in an interesting place?" Francis said, smiling. "Do you want to try something new today?"

His blush became more prominent the more Francis tried to pry into his personal life. "Shut up frog." He could swear that the man could feel the heat emanating from his face even as he looked to the floor.

"Fine, we won't talk for the rest of the ride." Francis said, looking forward, stopping at a red light. "Do you agree?"

Arthur decided to stay silent instead of answer. That was enough of an answer in his mind. He had to keep reminding himself that at any point he could just go and take a taxi back home, even if he did want to have sex with the seductive blond. The only reason that he did was because he'd never hear the end of it if he told Alfred what happened and that he didn't give him a chance. God, why did everything have to be so confusing now?

Eyes still forward, Francis took the wheel with his left hand, freeing up his right. He saw Arthur was looking out the window, so he slid his hand closer, and slipped it in the top of his pants. He jumped and opened his mouth to say something, but Francis quickly took his hand off the wheel and put a finger to his own mouth, silencing him.

Without a second thought, Arthur grabbed the wrist of the hand on his waistband and threw it aside. "Keep your bloody hands to yourself."

"What happened to no talking?" He said, and once again put his hand there, getting farther this time than the last time. "You said no talking, so you can't talk."

Frowning, he just grabbed the offending hand again and held onto it by the wrist. If that was how he wanted to play, then Arthur was going to stop him.

With a twist, Francis' hand was out of the grip and back in his pants, each time getting farther, undoing them more. This time he actually got to touch Arthur's cock before being pulled out. Then he went back, eyes never leaving the road. Francis grabbed onto the shaft, feeling it start to get hard.

Once his cock was out of his trousers and grasped by French fingers, he knew he had just lost. Now all he could do was hang his head in his hands and ignore how all the blood in his body was fighting between going to his face turning it into a beacon or going to his rapidly stiffening prick.

To anyone outside the car, Francis' face looked like he was simply driving along. But as his hand started getting faster, the more he had to concentrate on actually not hitting anything. It didn't take as much concentration as when he would get road head, however.

It took most of Arthur's concentration to not start moaning and writhing from the touch so that people would know just what was happening in the car. Instead, he gripped the sides of the leather seat and grit his teeth together. He was _not_ going to let anyone, especially Francis, know just how much it was affecting him. It had been a while since the last time he'd been touched by someone other than himself, and it left him extremely sensitive even after the days events.

Knowing they were getting close to his house, Francis pumped his hand faster, and tightened the grip. He wanted Arthur to finish before they got there, or else he would just put his cock back in his pants and guard it like a precious treasure.

Arthur bit down on his hand when he suddenly climaxed so he could hold in the sounds that were threatening to escape for the second time today. All the blood that was previously in his cock now rushed up to his face, causing it to turn a bright red. "I fucking hate you, you bloody snail-eating git." He muttered as he put himself back in his trousers.

"Mm, sure, that's why I can make you cum so easily." Francis lifted his cum-soaked hand up to his mouth and licked off the milky white substance, not minding the strange taste. By now, he was very used to the taste of sperm.

He watched Francis lick off his fingers from the corner of his eye. Arthur couldn't bear to look him in the eye in case he tried making him do the same deed to him for the second time today. "Where do you live?" The Briton all but snarled, trying desperately to change the subject. Knowing him, he probably lived in some apartment above a love hotel.

"Right over there." Francis pointed to a house that came into view as they turned the corner. From the outside it looked to be two stories, and it was fairly big, especially since they were in New York. "Do you like it?"

"It's a bloody mansion!" Arthur exclaimed, his embarrassment temporarily forgotten as he craned his head to look at the house. "How in the world did you get such a nice house on such little pay?"

"You may get little pay, but that doesn't mean I do." Francis said, choosing not to say anything extra.

"Bloody hell..." He gasped. "Guess that means I have to stay here for longer..." Francis even had his own yard, the wanker.

"Hm, big things make you stay longer? Then you will be staying a long time when we get to the bedroom." He smiled and laughed at the face Arthur gave him after he said that.

Arthur's face flushed again. How dare he speak to him like that? He might be a Frenchman and thus a pervert, but he had no right to brag. "That's not what I meant, pervert. I mean that I will have to stay in New York if it means living in such a house."

"Who's the pervert? For all you know, I could have been talking about my bed." He pulled into the garage and shut the car off. Then Francis leaned over while Arthur was undoing his seat belt and kissed him quickly.

He pulled away from the kiss, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. "I highly doubt that." Arthur quickly got out of the car and shut the door harder than he probably should have, earning a small wince from Francis. "So where's the entrance to your un-humble abode."

"Over here. So will you want the grand tour, or just get down to business?" Francis asked, opening the door and walking inside. He personally wanted to get right to the bedroom, but he could wait. Patience was a virtue.

"The grand tour, thank you very much. I think you can keep it in your pants for at least that long." He muttered, staring angrily at the ground.

Francis started showing him around. He sighed, knowing it might take a while if he wanted to see every room, which he probably would. It was times like these he wished he had a smaller house.

Stepping into Francis' house was like going through a time machine. Every room was filled with lavish decorations, thick carpets, beautiful paintings and other expensive things. "Just what kind of money are you getting?" He exclaimed again, his eyes wide. For a few minutes, he forgot about just what Francis' goal was in bringing him here.

It wasn't until they reached the kitchen when Arthur jaw really dropped. "Are you some sort of chef or something?!"

Lifting an eyebrow, Francis responded. "You have tasted my cooking. Obviously I would have a kitchen like this. The Dining Room is this way..." He continued, trying to get through the rooms as fast as he could.

"But why so much? Unless you have a battalion of slaves hiding right now that for some reason you feed, that is." Since he could barely cook, seeing such equipment had blown him away. He was forcibly dragged through the dining room and the rest of the house.

"I like to cook, so I have a big kitchen." You like to talk, so you have a big mouth, Francis thought in his mind. He slowly made his way closer to his bedroom, already thinking about what position they could do it in. Arthur on bottom was already tried, so maybe he could be riding him? Damn, with his imagination running wild, it was all the Frenchman could do not to rip that button up top off the blond and ravish his whole body.

"Obviously it's built for your ego." He just growled, still being dragged off to where he was pretty sure one of the bedrooms were. "We better not be going where I bloody well think we're going."

"Why not? Isn't that why you came over here?" Francis said flippantly, still walking towards his bedroom. "For a continuation of earlier today?" He stopped and turned around, and lightly brushed Arthur's cheek, which grew a small blush.

Hitting the hand away, Arthur muttered. "You have to make me dinner first." Even though his blush grew more, he made fierce eye contact with Francis. "You can't just take me to your bed like the cheap whores you normally get."

Slightly put off by the fact that he would not be having sex right away, but excited that he would be cooking, Francis got to work. Something that was quick. Arthur sat at the island, perfectly content to sit and watch. Of course, Francis didn't really want him helping. The poor soul probably burnt ice cream!

* * *

Sorry! I know it has been a long time, and to leave it at suc a spot! But both my and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture's computers aren't working! We are able to write on our iPods, but I can't put up the chapters. Right now I am on my moms computer, her old, slow computer, hoping she never checks the history. She probably doesn't even know how, though. So it's all good. I will try to get on here as much as I can, but no promises. Sorry again!


	15. Chapter 15

Even though he was slightly surprised Francis actually listened to him, the Briton just watched the man in his element. It looked as if he was born to cook. "What are you making me, frog? Better be something good."

"Chicken Cord en Bleu." Francis said, putting the chicken breasts in the pan, knowing the actions by heart, almost being able to do them with his eyes closed. If he wasn't having sex, cooking was the thing he liked most.

"French. How did I know." Arthur sneered, crossing his arms. His carefully constructed wall of calm was just that: a wall. Underneath, he was nervous for what he knew was going to happen. Why in the world did he let the man goad him into actually coming here?

"Of course. I am French, so why not make French food? Don't worry, you will like it." Maybe he could slip some aphrodisiac in it, just in case the prude decided to just leave after he ate, which he wouldn't put past him.

The Englishman just continued to scowl. "And why do I doubt that?" Even he knew that he was being more callous than usual, but the man deserved it. Of course he did... Didn't he? He was a playboy and a pervert, and that was enough for him.

"Well, you liked all the other food I made you, so you should like this, too." Francis said, changing the temperature of the stove.

Arthur just frowned more and crossed his legs as well. He didn't want to, but he decided to act like the gentleman he was. That meant he would just keep quiet and try to ignore the conflicting feelings between jumping the man right then and there and getting it over with, or running away and going back to the United Kingdom.

When Francis was finally finished with the chicken, he put it on a plate and drizzled some sauce on it. He put the plate in front of Arthur with a glass of wine. "Don't drink too much. We work tomorrow."

"You're not going to eat?" He asked somewhat caring, only to ruin it with his next comment. "Trying to stay skinny so more people will shag you?"

Francis shook his head. "Being skinny is only an asset for bottoms. You, for example, are just the right amount of skinny." He smiled and sat down opposite the blond. "I'm just not hungry."

"Just you wait," Arthur muttered, trying to push back the red flush that covered his body, "I'll have you screaming out for the United Kingdom by the end of the night." He picked up the cutlery viciously and stabbed the chicken breast. Cutting off a piece and putting it in his mouth, he swallowed loudly in case any other sounds threatened to escape.

"Wow, I think that is the most lewd thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth." Out of his _sober_ mouth, of course. His drunken mouth, however, knew a variety of vulgar words and wanted to use as many of those as possible. Francis wasn't sure if he wanted him to get drunk and be like that again, or wanted to see that delicate blush as he rammed into that fine ass.

He just snorted as he continued to slowly eat the food, taking more time then he had to. "It's just because you're lewd enough for the world over. Plus I -unlike you- like to keep up appearances at our work place."

"Working there, who needs to keep up appearances?" Francis asked, hoping that goddamn Englishman would hurry up so they could get to the main course. "This is much slower than how you usually eat my food at work."

"Shut up. I'm taking my time because I _have_ time." Arthur ignored the way Francis leaned against the counter, obviously trying to make him hurry up. Shooting a glare at him, the Briton picked up the wine glass and took a large sip.

Francis leaned over the table and wiped something off his face. "You had cream on your cheek." He said, not even bothering to play up the obvious implications. If Arthur didn't understand that, there really was no hope. "So, how do you like it?"

Arthur wiped his cheek off as well and just grunted a reply; mind you, it was a very gentlemanly grunt. "It's not bad, but it's not good either." He obviously wasn't going to mention the fact that it was pretty much orgasmic as the rest of the food was. That wouldn't do any good to the other's ego.

"Mhm, sure." Francis said, smiling. Of course he saw through the thin shroud of deceit that the blond tried to have up at all times. He started looking around the room and tapping his fingers on the table. Not having sex and no longer cooking. Hardly even worth his time.

Within a few more bites, the delicious meal was finished. He then finished off the glass of complimenting red white and looked over at Francis. "So then... What's for dessert?"

_Merde_, the idiot actually asked for that. Francis practically leaped over the table, grabbing a handful of light English hair and pulled his head forward for a quick, fierce kiss. Then he pulled back, still holding onto Arthur's hair, and said in a growl that still managed to sound sexy with his accent, "Me." then he started walking to the bedroom, hand still full of hair.

"Let me go you fucking git!" Arthur yelled, trying unsuccessfully to pull the hand out of his hair. "That bloody hurts!" He also tried to ignore the tingling feeling on his lips from being kissed so... Passionately.

"Well, if you don't want what's going to happen next to hurt, I suggest you cooperate." He said, letting go of the hair but instantly grabbing his wrist. "I have waited too long to have sex with you, so I'm not going to let this chance go."

"Wait," he started, stopping suddenly and glaring at Francis; only marred by his thick blush, "who said you were going to top?"

Stopping in his tracks, Francis turned around slowly. "You're joking, right? You must be joking." Of course he couldn't say that he was top last time they had done it, but still, he thought it would be obvious. "Trust me, I'm going to top. Don't worry, I wasn't serious about the making it hurt comment." He seemed to remember having a similar conversation the last time, as well.

The Englishman ripped his wrist out of the iron grip only to be held tighter. "What gives you the choice? You're most likely always the top; it would tame your ego if you were to be dominated." He didn't want to say it out loud, but he could already imagine it from what he'd seen in the office.

"I've bottomed before. I was bottom with Ivan." Francis said, once again making his way to the bedroom. "But from what I saw in the office, you aren't as big as him, and therefore wouldn't satisfy me. Not to say that you're small of course... It's just that Ivan is huge." He wasn't really paying much attention to what he was saying, but it didn't matter, really. There was no way he would be topped by an Englishman.

"I really don't need to hear about your sexual life, especially if it includes our boss." 'And especially since we are about to have sex as well' he added savagely in his head. Francis had dragged him into what he remembered to be the man's own bedroom and all but threw him on the bed. "And I'm sorry if I'm not 'big' enough for your sexual appetite, but I've already made it my goal to make you squeal like the French pig that you are."

Choosing not to respond to the blond Francis descended on the bed. He shut the blond up by sealing his lips with his own, slipping in his tongue while undoing the infuriating button up shirt. What was it with Arthur and these stupid shirts? They took much too long to take off.

It wasn't long before his shirt was unbutton and being hurriedly pushed off his shoulders. Next his pants were facing the same fate; Francis making short work of the button and zipper. "What happened to your patience?" Arthur somewhat teased, letting out a very manly whimper as his stiffening cock was squeezed. By reflex, he grabbed onto his hand as if to move it away.

"You stole it from me." Francis whispered huskily, trailing kisses from his bellybutton downwards. Considering the fact that he wasn't hit for saying such an obvious line, he guessed Arthur either didn't hear him, or was too turned on to care.

Against his will, Arthur arched into the kisses and groaned as they stopped at the waistband of his underwear. "Don't forget: I will be topping you sometime tonight." He managed to get out as his nipple was rolled between dexterous fingers. Arthur wanted to ignore the light scratching of Francis' stubble or the way his wavy hair brushed against his skin but they were too sensual on his already flushed body.

Francis smiled over top of the nice English stomach. "You can be on top." With that he took his hands on Arthur's hips and smoothly lifted him up, slipping underneath so the he was sitting on his stomach.

"It's about bloody time you realized that." Arthur growled as he started to kiss Francis' neck and collar bone. Even with the awkward angle, he managed it quite well.

Now that he wasn't so preoccupied with getting on top, it gave the Briton a bit of time to look at the bed itself. He had already felt that the sheets were made of fine silk in deep crimson. Also, on the four corners of the bed, he could distinctly see where the dark wood was rubbed by what he assumed had been ropes.

With Arthur sucking on his neck, Francis reached down, slipping off the Englishman's pants and underwear down to his knees. As soon as they were off he ran a finger over the head, smearing the precum to make pumping it easier. With his other hand the Parisian reached over to the drawer beside his bed to get some lube. "Are you going to undress me?"

The Englishman paused his actions on Francis' body and glared at him with emerald eyes. "I, unlike you, have patience. I'll do it when I see fit." As he started talking, he was already working on the shirt below him. Each button was slowly undone with slightly shaking hands and he licked and nipped as each inch of skin was revealed.

At the same time he was languidly undressing the wavy haired Parisian man, Arthur tried valiantly to ignore the hand sliding up and down his cock. It felt good, but not as good as he imagined being encased in his tight arse was going to be.

Just like a true Englishman, Arthur went almost painfully slowly. Francis took his hand off the other's shaft to open the cap of lube behind the blond's back, and put some on his finger. He closed the cap and went back to fondling the rock-hard cock with the hand he hadn't put any lube on. "Kiss me." He demanded. If they were kissing, then Arthur would be leaning forward, giving him more access...

"I'm not doing it because you said so." He muttered up from his neck and brought their lips together. By now he was painfully aware of just how hard his prick had become, and he was extremely tempted to just push into Francis without lube or preparation.

Yes, the kiss had put Arthur in the perfect position. Francis spread the lube around his fingers and quickly slipped in the first finger.

Just as he had dragged the Frenchman's pants down to his knees, Arthur felt the slick finger enter him and promptly started yelling. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" He pushed forward to get the finger out, but only managed to rub his cock on the chest below him.

Francis smiled and squeezed the cock in his hand tighter, forcing a quiet whimper out of his partner, as well as thrusting his finger deeper into his tight hole. "What are you complaining about, _cheri_? You are on top, _non_?"

"Yes, but... No!" He yelled again, going to get up off of him and instead just making it easier for the finger to penetrate him. Just as long as he didn't manage to hit his sweet spot, he'd be able to stop him. "I'm not just going to be on top, I'm going to be the one fucking your pale little arse."

Adding another finger, Francis searched for that little cluster of nerves. "Not much chance of that. You have fingers in your _derrière _and I still have my pants on_."_

Arthur was just about to complain again before he moaned loudly and arched his back. Giving Francis a ferocious glare, he then ripped off his underwear and pants and started sucking on his fingers. He was at least nice enough to give him some sort of lube. His fingers acted as a kind of mute as his prostate was continually jabbed.

"You're extremely sexy like that, you know." Francis smiled and leaned up, fingers still moving against that spot, and kissed him on the cheek. At the same time, he added a third finger.

"Fuck you. Oh wait, that's what I'm going to do." With that, he took out his fingers from his mouth and brought them to Francis' arse.

Quick as lightening, Francis took his hand off Arthur's wanting cock and grabbed the hand going for his backside. He caught it in time, and he smiled when the Englishman arched because he had curled his fingers.

His grimace turned more into a frown of pleasure. Damn him! "Fine. If you're going to 'top' me though, you better be bloody good." How did he even get himself in such a position? All he wanted to do was give him a chance: go on a simple date, maybe kiss him a bit. Not get a blow job, give him a hand job and have sex all in the same day.

"The best." He said, and took his fingers out of Arthur's hole. Quickly Francis took some more lube and rubbed it over his own straining manhood. "Are you going to get on, or do you want me to guide you?"

"Shut up you poncy git." Reaching behind him, he roughly grabbed a hold of Francis' slick cock and pushed down quickly. Arthur gasped at the intrusion but impaled himself quickly. His own dick twitched at the feeling of being filled.

Mm, just as good as last time. Perhaps even better. The warmth surrounding his cock was divine, and he thrust his hips up, meeting Arthur's thrust downwards. "Mon cheri, you have an amazing derrier."

Instead of answering, Arthur just squeezed his eyes shut and started to roughly thrust himself on the Parisian's cock. He was leaning back on his hands so that he could push harder and have it go in deeper so it would hit that 'magic' spot inside of him. If it was pounded, it would help make all of the day's progression worth it. He could just finish, get his clothes back on and disappear from there and never have to see the man again other than at work. And if he tried to do anything else to him, he could file a sexual abuse case.

Francis got his arms on the bed so he could lift himself up, and kissed Arthur, their hot breaths mingling together as the other continued to move up and down. When the Parisian lay back on the bed, he grabbed his partner's shoulders, bringing him down as well so he could easily reach those perk nipples.

With a small moan, he tried ignoring just how hot his entire body felt; his blood running through him like quicksilver. He couldn't be enjoying this! This was just to shut the Frenchman up so he would stop molesting him at work! Also, he could then truthfully tell Alfred that he gave the pervert a chance, so that he could go back to England. Yes his job was good, but he would find work back there.

"I hope you know that I'm not enjoying this." Arthur managed to grit out, still pounding down furiously. He had also started to clamp down on the hard prick inside him.

Right after the blond said that, he let out a long, low moan, throwing his head back. Francis smirked, letting go of a nipple. "Yes, I can tell you don't like this." He said sarcastically, thrusting up deeper into the hot cavern that was encasing his manhood. "You are obviously not being turned on at all by being loved thoroughly by me."

"Bugger." He growled. At this point, since his own dick was all but ignored, it was bobbing up and down in time with his downward thrusts. Arthur knew that if he even touched it, he would most likely orgasm at that point. Not that it would be a bad thing... It just would mean that Francis would probably want to finish or make him give him another hand job, and this time he was not going to do that.

With one hand, Francis held Arthur's hip, helping him thrust up and down. His other he lifted up, lightly grabbing a hold of the swollen English cock.

Swatting the hand away quickly, Arthur yelled down at the Frenchman. "Don't do that you wanker, unless you want me to cum now!"

Smiling, the Frenchman took hold of the shaft again, this time with two hands. His right he kept pumping up and down, but with his left he held the base tightly, so Arthur wouldn't be able to cum. "I solved the problem, didn't I? But it is nice to know you like my cock so much that you are ready to cum with just that."

Arthur started swearing loudly as his cock was fondled. "I didn't say that!" He started losing concentration, so his thrusts were becoming less rhythmical and more sporadic.

"Oh, but you did. With your eyes." Francis said, barely keeping his voice steady as his cock was continually sent to heaven. Yes, those emerald eyes that seemed to stare into your soul.

"Bloody arsehole!" Arthur growled, leaving off the 'Why are you so good at this?' in his mind. Just how long did he expect the Brit to survive without exploding? "Stop being so suave and just let me finish! You were perfectly content to jerk yourself off earlier today." It took a lot of effort not to stutter throughout the sentence, but somehow he managed it.

"I'm not doing this for my sake. Because I want to finish, and not by my own hand." He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Or yours, either." But he still let go of the straining cock, still pumping it just like before. Arthur came within a few seconds, ribbons of white flying from the slit, covering Francis' naked chest. Even when it started to go soft, the Frenchman kept thrusting his hand, making it stand back up once again.

What else could Arthur say to make Francis realize that he was not going to stay any longer! As his cock was stroked back into being hard, he thrust his hips up quickly as if to slam back down, but instead he went off all the way and backwards crab-walked over the man's body. "Well have fun with it anyways. I'm done and I certainly don't want to be here any longer than I must. Good day."

Annoyed that the tight heat was gone from his shaft, Francis sat up and grabbed Arthur's hand and roughly pulled him back so he was lying face down on the pillow. "Well, for that, you will no longer be in charge." He brought their bodies flush together, once again entering him.

Arthur's moan was muffled by the fact that his face was being pushed repeatedly into the pillow. Now that Francis was the one thrusting into him, his cock was going much faster and deeper into his arse. "You sodding git. Just let me go already!" He managed to turn his head and yell, only to start moaning again.

"I will when I have had my fill, and send you to heaven." Of course he didn't mean he was going to kill him. Francis doubted very much that the blond would go to heaven if he was killed.

Without responding with his usual barbed insults, Arthur just let himself be pounded into the mattress as his own cock started to feel hard and painful once again. This time though, he clamped down on Francis' prick inside him and rutted against the smooth silk sheets in time with their rhythm. If he could get both of them off this time, then he could leave.

Francis reached around the hips he was thrusting into and lifted them up slightly so he could reach the hard cock. "_Ah, mon cher, tu es très belle comme ça_."

"Stop speaking French!" He growled, his voice saturated with lust from Francis thrusting into him so deeply; almost each one slamming right into his prostate.

"But your body seems to like it so much when I speak _la langue d'amour_." Knowing he was close to his own climax, Francis increased the spead of both his thrusts and his hand, assaulting Arthur's prostate in the prosses.

Arthur inhaled sharply as he reached his second climax of the night. His cum had shot into Francis' hand and on the sheets below him, which gave him a twisted sence of accomplishment at making the other's life just a bit worse in return. As he rode his orgasm out, he could feel as the Frenchman's thrusts became more hitched as he got to the edge of his release.

With one final jerk of his hips, Francis released his seed, thrusting a few more times to get it all out. In truth he wanted to stay just like they were, but knew Arthur would start hitting him any second, so he pulled back, his now-limp cock falling out with an obscene popping sound. He bent over and started kissing a line from Arthur's shoulder blades to the bottom of his neck. "Ah, _mon petit chou_, that was incredible."

"Shut up you bloody frog." The Briton mumbled into the pillow. He was somewhat tired, but he just needed a quick rest before he started pushing Francis off of him. "And I told you to stop speaking your excuse for a language. You're in America, the least you could do is speak English all the time. Even if they can't properly..."

"If you want me to speak English all the time, that will require much more sex." Francis said between kisses. He ran his hands over the sides of Arthur's body, feeling his ribs and the steady beat of his heart, still pumping fast. "_Je t'aime_."

He knew enough of his blasted language to know just what he said, causing Arthur to blush a bit while pushing Francis off again. "I told you to stop, and if I have it my way I won't ever have to see you again, never mind have sex with you."

"You are so cute when you are lying." Francis collapsed beside the tired Englishman, twirling short blond hair between his fingers absentmindedly.

"And you'd be cuter dead." Annoyed, he finally had enough with the touchy Parisian and got up from the bed. Arthur was a bit grossed out by the cum on his stomach from laying down, but it was quickly taken care of by using the end of the top sheet to wipe it off. Francis could deal with it when he was back in his own apartment.

Arthur started collecting his clothes from the floor. "Anyways, I guess I have to see you at work tomorrow. If you tell anyone what happened, I will deny it and call the police to file a report on a local pervert."

Francis laughed when Arthur started slowly wobbling away, bent over slightly. He reached out a lazy hand and grabbed him by the waist, pulling the Englishman back into the bed. "I'll lend you clothes, make breakfast, and drive us both to work." He said quietly into the blond hair.

With a final grumble, he just curled up away from the other body. "Whatever. But I'm only staying because I'm tired." After a few seconds of silence, Arthur spoke up again. "Speaking of clothes, just where is my jacket I lent you?"

"Oh, I haven't picked it up from the dry cleaners yet." He rolled closer to Arthur, putting his arm around him, holding the tired body close to his own. "What time do you want to wake up?"

"Rich bastard..." Arthur muttered to himself before answering. "I only need about twenty minutes to get ready, so at a time that we can still get to the office in time." Maybe it was the fatigue talking, but it was sort of comfortable lying with another person in bed, even if his arse was filled with their cum and it felt as if it was going to fall off. "Aren't you going to clean us off?"

"I suppose." He got up with a sigh and went to the washroom attached to his bedroom. "Stay there, since you can't walk because I was so good." He said while laughing as he got a towel wet with some warm water.

Arthur barely even growled before his eyes slipped shut and he fell into an easy sleep. Curling up on the bed, he became oblivious to the world around him, including Francis methodically washing him off.

When both of them were clean from any milky-white substance, Francis lay down beside his partner, wrapping his arms around him from behind. His favorite way of sleeping had always been beside a person.

* * *

Yay my computer got better! So we gave you guys a long chapter because you all have been so patient. Anyway, here is their first/second yaoi scene!


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Arthur woke up groggily to the smell of food and a hand shaking his shoulder lightly. Why was Alfred in his apartment? He didn't ever remember letting him in. The night's occurrence came to him in a flash as soon as he opened his eyes a slit only to be faced with a way too happy Frenchman and a plate of food.

"Good morning! Fruit crepes for breakfast!" He said, putting down a little stool on the bed and placing the plate on top. "You can eat in bed today, just like a mother on mother's day."

Sitting up, the Briton rubbed his eyes. "I'm not a woman, I can eat in the dining room." His voice was hoarse from sleep. "And stop making me your bloody French food. If you want to impress me so badly, make a pot of breakfast tea and some scones."

"_Non non non_! I will not make something so horrible. And just eat here and enjoy yourself. I will go get you some clothes so just stay here and eat." He went back to the kitchen to quickly eat some food himself before searching for some clothes that would fit the Englishman.

Arthur just watched him run out of the room before looking down at the delectable crepes. Why was he still trying to soften him up? Just toast would have sufficed... He picked up the knife and fork and slowly cut a piece off. Placing it in his mouth, he once again had to hold back sounds of contentment. How could Francis cook so well? The Englishman continued to eat the crepes fast, trying to finish them off before the man who made them could see just how much he enjoyed them.

A few minutes later, Francis walked back into the room with some clothes. He could have given him some of his more, for lack of a better word, slutty clothes, but decided not to waste his time. Arthur would never wear something like that. Nevertheless, what he had picked was sure to look excellent with the green eyes and that pale skin. "_Voilà."_

Looking at the clothes Francis had chosen, Arthur couldn't help but scowl. "Why can't I just wear my clothes from yesterday? Or better yet, I can go to my apartment and get my own instead of wearing those pieces of fabric you call clothes."

"We will be late if we go to your apartment, and do you really want people wondering why you're wearing the same clothes two days in a row?" Francis asked, picking up the plates and bringing them to the kitchen.

"Fine!" He yelled after Francis before mumbling to himself. "Bloody Frenchmen with their designer clothes and all their expensive things." Trying not to imagine himself wearing the clothes, he just grabbed them and went to the adjacent bathroom, glad that there was a shower in there.

Without a second thought, Arthur closed the door behind him and stripped down as he started up the shower. He was glad to be getting clean after last night, and had just stayed still under the stream before grumbling at all the flowery shampoos and conditioners. Why couldn't he just have some normal things?

Being careful to not make much sound, Francis snuck into the steamy bathroom and took all the towels off the racks, and from the closet. Then he took them and piled them on the couch in his living room, sitting beside them like they weren't even there.

Just as he said before, it wasn't long until he had cleaned himself off. Remembering that he had seen the towels in the closet, Arthur slowly opened the shower curtain to make sure Francis wasn't there watching and then got out to look. That's strange... He could have sworn there were some in there. They couldn't have just disappeared... The Englishman could have bet anything that Francis took them.

Still dripping wet, he opened the bathroom door slightly, poking his head out. "Where the bloody hell are the towels you wanker?" Arthur yelled, hoping that he wasn't too far away.

"Over here. Come and get them." Francis said, just loud enough to be heard from the bathroom. He smiled to himself, not being able to wait to see a dripping wet, naked Arthur. Even if he would be hit for his troubles.

"No! Bring them here you prat!" He yelled again. He was not going to go out there completely naked!

"I'm not going to. So either come out here and get them, or stay in there shivering." He would rather be late for work than go give Arthur a towel.

Arthur growled. Well if he wanted to have it that way, he was just going to have to find a way to cover himself up. Seeing the shower curtain, he uncerimoniously ripped it down and wrapped it around his waist before walking out determindly. The Brit didn't even care that he was shedding water onto Francis' nice floor. "Where are you?" He yelled once more, unsure exactly where the Frenchman was.

"Living room." Yes! His plan was working! A few more seconds and...! Then he saw Arthur with the shower curtain wrapped protectively around himself. Quickly, Francis jumped on the pile of towels. "You can get a towel when you take that off." He said stubornly.

"I refuse." With that, he lunged for a towel, only to be pushed off by Francis. "I am not letting you see me naked!" One hand was protecting the knot holding the makeshift towel on him while the other was fighting viciously for a proper towel.

"I've already seen you naked, if you don't remember!" Well, technically he had seen him naked twice, but the first time Arthur actually didn't remember. Francis grabbed the towel from the Englishman's grasp, engaging in a tug-o-war. "You'll need both hands if you really want to win."

Arthur thought for a second about the consiquences of letting go to be able to grab the towel. If his makeshift towel was to fall, he could just hurt the other blond if he tried to do anything. With a split second of confidence, he let go of the knot and yanked on the towel, pulling it out of Francis' grasp.

Francis freely let go of the towel so he could grab ahold of the shower curtain and pulled it down. "There we go!"

With a wild blush, he quickly used the towel to cover himself up as he started yelling profanities. "What the bloody hell was that for you giant twat!"

"For fun. What else?" Francis smiled and leaned back in the couch. "Are you going to get dressed, or are you going to stand there, showing off those lovely nipples?" He said, glancing obviously at said bodypart.

Still blushing, Arthur quickly ran back to the bathroom and quickly got dressed. Probably because they were the same height, the clothes fit him as if they were made exactly for him which made the Englishman snarl. The dark green button up shirt was made of smooth silk like the sheets and the jacket that went overtop fit perfectly over his narrow shoulders. The trousers were also a perfect cut for him, even if it was extremely embarassing to think that he was wearing a pair of Francis' underwear underneath them.

Francis sat down on his bed, waiting for Arthur to finish. He lay down, looking at the ceiling, thinking. Last night had been amazing. So, if he ever wanted that to happen again, there was no way Arthur could find out about the night at the hotel. He would definatly freak out, and it wouldn't be good.

Before he came out of the bathroom, he once again poked his head out, seeing Francis laying on the bed. "I'm ready you pompous bastard, so you better be ready too." A light blush on his face, he walked out of the room and pulled self conciously on the jacket he was wearning, completely aware of just how the Frenchman was looking at him.

_"__Oui_, I'm ready. You look wonderful, by the way." Francis stood up, walking over to the Englishman. He then put his hand up to the tangled mass of hair. "Now, if only you would let me deal with this..."

Arthur quickly swatted the hand away. "Let's get going then." How dare that man know how to embarrass him so well.

.oOo.

Once they were at there workplace, the day had been going along fine except for the stream of compliments Arthur had been getting on his attire, causing Francis to smirk in approval. Bloody frog.

Other than that, there hadn't been anything else to happen to him. The Frenchman stayed far enough from him to not be a bother and Arthur had gotten a lot of editing done.

Ah, the look of one you had just slept with, wearing your clothes was simply divine. Francis took a second to once again look him over as he brought today's lunch. "When you wear that and are hunched over your work, it makes you look like a sexy secretary. Everyone has been staring at you. It makes me slightly jealous." He smiled as he put the container down.

Looking over his shoulder, Arthur just gave a small "Hm" as he went back to work. If he just ignored him, maybe he would go away. Considering his new goal was to continuously ignore the blasted Frenchman, he wanted it to work.

"Ah, that sound somehow reminds me of last night." Francis said with a sigh as he walked away. But it was true, Arthur was getting a little too much attention. Maybe making him look drop dead gorgeous was a bad idea.

Slightly surprised that Francis didn't try to stick around and get a proper response from him, he looked back over his shoulder to where he was retreating. Staring for a second, Arthur then shook his head from thoughts of last night and turned back to his manuscript and the container of food on his desk. Just when did the Frenchman have time to make it anyways? He couldn't have been sleeping much longer than he was.

Whatever. If he made him food, he was damn well going to eat it, even if it was most likely going to be some sort of French concoction. As soon as he took off the lid, his nose was assaulted by the warm smell of his lunch. Francis must have heated it up for him. Wait, no! He wasn't supposed to be thinking of good things about the pompous wanker! Any thought about him had to be horrible and filled to the brim with vile, race appropriate insults.

Even through his mental rage, Arthur picked up the fork that was also placed on his desk and took a small bite. Just how in the bloody hell did he do it! How was it possible to cook without it burning to a crisp? He hadn't had food like this since... Well, since the last time the frog cooked for him which just happened to be this morning.

Unlike the other times, he had let himself enjoy the subtle flavours intermingling in the dish. Closing his eyes, Arthur leaned back in his chair and continued to eat.


	17. Chapter 17

Putting the end of his manuscript to the side, Arthur rolled his neck. "I hate working overtime." He mumbled to himself as he grabbed his things from the desk.

Making sure that the rest of the lights were off, he then made his way to the elevator, ignoring the cheesy music emanating from the speakers. Once he was at the lobby floor, he walked out, intent to get outside.

Tino looked up from the reception desk, surprised anyone was still there. "Oh, goodnight, Mr. Kirkland! Do you have an umbrella?" He said, smiling and pointing outside to the heavy downpour.

"Ah, good night Mr. Väinämöinen, and no I don-..." As he turned his head to comprehend just what it looked like outside, a small smile on his face quickly turned into a full out grin; the happiest he had been sober since coming to America.

Outside, was the largest rainfall Arthur had seen since leaving England. And because of that fact, he threw out all pretences of seeming gentlemanly and ran out of the building. He let himself look up to the stormy sky and inhale deeply, the smile becoming big enough to engulf his face. The smell of the rain combined with the simple pleasure of rinsing off from a clear shower stopped him from flagging down a taxi and instead started to walk.

Since Arthur was so preoccupied with enjoying the cool rain -even though it was probably horribly polluted- he didn't even notice as he started to wander from going to his apartment. Before he knew it, he was soaked to the bone and was in a strange neighbourhood. Well, it wasn't necessarily as random as he hoped it would have been.

Being close to Francis' house, Arthur just sighed and started making his way in the direction he figured it was in. What was the use of just walking back to his apartment? There didn't seem to be any taxi's driving through this area -he figured it was most likely because each home had at least one vehicle- and he didn't want to have to spend money on a cab, so he figured he would just take advantage of the Frenchman's hospitality. It was in _no_ way because he knew he would get fed and would be able to see the man. The only reason he did was because he wanted to get out of his soaked clothes and he was closer to his house.

With a face in between a snarl and a smirk, the Brit saw the facade of the frog's house. The same expression on his face, he made his way up the walkway and rang the doorbell a few times, standing on his porch; dripping rain and by now feeling miserable. How in the world was he comforted by the one thing he was _glad _to leave the UK for?

Curious who was at the door in this weather, Francis opened it to see a sodden Arthur, water dripping into his eyes and hair plastered to his forehead. "What were you...? Come inside before you catch a cold." He got out of the way to let the dripping man inside.

"I'm not going to get a cold just by getting a bit wet." Arthur growled, peeling off his jacket and taking off his shoes. Why in the world did he have to be so cheap as to rather see _him_ then just go home? After all, he didn't want to see the blond.

"Well, you are shivering, so you're at least cold. I'll get you a towel." Francis said and went to the closet. He came back with two large white towels. Arthur was still standing there, shivering in his wet clothes.

As Francis came back with towels, the Englishman was just about to reach for it with a shaking hand before he was quickly brought into a hug with the towel between the two of them. Trying to ignore the distinct smell of the man wrapped around him, Arthur just pulled slightly out of the grasp and continued to dry himself off. "I can bloody well dry myself off. I'm not a child."

"You're right." Francis said as he put the other towel on Arthur's wet hair, drying it off. "A child wouldn't be stupid enough to stay out in the rain." He smiled, the towel covering the surly angry face for a second.

"I didn't _'stay out'_ in the rain for your information. I decided to enjoy the little bit of nature left in this urban sprawl and walk in the rain." He didn't want to add that it made him happy, because who knew if the wavy haired blond would use that information to his advantage. Grabbing the hair towel from Francis, he then started to dry his hair off quickly, rubbing the towel against his head viciously.

Slightly appalled by the way the Englishman was treating his hair, Francis took over. "If you do that, it will all get tangled. Do you even brush your hair?" Done with drying it, he let the towel still, slightly away from Arthur's face. He smiled and leaned closer, matching their lips together like a puzzle.

Shocked, Arthur stood still for a moment as his body started to pulse and it felt as if he was listening to everything underwater. With Francis' lips running over his delicately, he almost didn't want to pull away until he realized just what he was doing. At that second, he quickly pushed away the other, a bright blush overtaking his face. All he could do was flounder for a second, unsure of just what to say.

Francis smirked and turned around, swaying his hips seductively. "I'll find some dry clothes for you. Are you going to stay for tonight?"

Feeling as if his face was going to burn off, Arthur spluttered. "Of course I'm not going to! I'm calling a taxi, right now!" As if to prove his point, he took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and opened it. Now if only he remembered the number...

"Yeah, sure." He went into his room to look for some clothes. This time, he wouldn't make the mistake of giving him clothes that force the nectar of the sex gods to seep out of Arthur's every pore.

By the time that Francis came back with clothes draped over his arm, Arthur had taken to sitting on the tile floor, still in his soaked clothes with the towel wrapped tightly around himself. "Why thank you, oh 'Lord of Fashion'." He said monotonously with a straight face, only marred by the fact that he had started to shiver a bit again.

"Thank you for the compliment." He smiled and walked into the kitchen. "I suppose you want something to eat. Would French toast be all right? I don't want to make something that takes an hour right now."

"I don't care, considering I'm leaving as soon as possible." Taking the clothes, he noticed right away that they weren't as expensive looking as the other garments were yesterday. The next thing he noticed had him confused one second, and livid the next.

"It. Was. You... YOU FUCKING FRENCH-SPEAKING, SNAIL-EATING, COCK-WORSHIPPING _MONSTER_!" His hand shaking, Arthur looked down again at the piece of clothing in his hand. Normally he wouldn't have thought twice about it, but it was the fact that he hadn't seen that particular pair of underwear for a few months now that made his face turn red in anger instead of embarrassment. "How _DARE_ you be the bloody shag I had when I was piss drunk! And you didn't even have the decency to tell me? Tell me this: when exactly were you planning on telling me? When you managed to fuck me just one more time?"

True, he probably was being harsh, but he was too angry at this point to care. Grabbing his jacket and pulling on his shoes, Arthur turned around and threw the front door open with a _slam_ before running back out into the rainstorm; warm tears joining the cold raindrops on their way down his face.

What just happened? Francis stood in the kitchen for a second, not fully comprehending what had just happened. But then he quickly ran from the kitchen, almost falling over a chair on his way to the door. "Arthur!" But his voice was lost in the overwhelming sound of the rain. He continued running, getting soaked almost immediately, trying to see through the drops. "_Merde_!" He swore, only to be heard by the rain pouring down around him.

Arthur just continued to run. He had no idea just where his feet were taking him, just as long as it was far away from that sadistic blond. Just how could that bastard keep this a secret from him for so long? And what did he have to gain by it? It wasn't as if Arthur remembered anything from that night except for the first few glasses of liquor at the bar.

As if the rain could sense his demise, it started pouring even more intensely, causing his hair to plaster itself around his face and in his eyes. Even his bushy eyebrows were no match to the downpour. Salty tears also continued to run down his face as well, urging him to run through the New York streets faster. How dare that damn Parisian man have such an emotional power over him! It wasn't as if he _liked_ the man, he just cooked for him and it just so happened to be insanely delicious. Not to mention the fact that they had sex... Again apparently if finding the missing underwear meant anything.

Still not knowing where his feet were taking him, Arthur was somewhat surprised through his shroud of depression to find himself at the front door of Alfred's apartment building. Unsure of why exactly he was there, he didn't even think twice before ringing up to Alfred's apartment.

Hearing a quick "Who's it?" from the shoddy speakers, the soaking Brit muttered pitifully. "Just... Let me in you bloody Yank."

"Arthur? What's wrong? Never mind, just come up." Alfred hit the button to let Arthur in, completely confused as to why the blond was there, and why his voice had sounded slightly shaky, almost as if he had been crying.

Going up to Alfred's apartment, Arthur quickly wiped off the rest of his tears with his soaked sleeve and traipsed water through the hallway. Once he was at his door, the Briton rapped twice on the door only for it to fly open as soon as his fist was to hit a third time.

Before the American could question him, he pushed his way into the apartment and sat down on the couch.

Alfred didn't mind that Arthur was getting his couch wet. There had been much worse things on it than water. "What's wrong, Arty? It looks and sounds like you were crying."

"Shut up." He mumbled through his hands that were supporting his head. Just how dare he be so affected by something that man did to him! "I just... need a cup of tea."

"You know very well that I never have tea. But if you tell me what happened I can go over to Matt's place and get some from him." Alfred said, smiling. He sat down beside Arthur, actually worried about him. "Now, seriously, what happened?"

Glaring at his friend with slightly reddened eyes, Arthur just muttered. "I'm not going to tell you. Now be a good little lad and get me some fucking tea. Now." He added for good measure.

"Arthur, come on. I want to help." Hm, maybe if he actually got the tea, and put a lot of alcohol in it, then the Englishman would say more. Because how he was now, there was little chance of him saying anything.

"Argh! It's that damned Frenchman ok? Scratch the tea; give me a glass of whiskey. Or rum. What ever you have with an alcohol content of more then twenty percent." His head went back to being cradled in his hands as more tears threatened to drip down his wet face.

Closing his eyes for a second, Alfred stood up to get the alcohol. Damn, what had happened between them to make Arthur this sad? To actually cry in front of him like this, it must have been something big. Or at least something that seemed big to the blond. Now that he thought about it, he was almost certain he knew what it was. But how had the Brit found out?

Arthur didn't even question just how the underage man had alcohol in his house as his hand was gently pried from his face to be filled with a glass of mystery liquid. Taking a hearty swig, he couldn't even feel the burn through the lump in his throat. With one movement of his hand, Arthur then quickly downed the glass and held it out to be refilled.

Filling the glass, Alfred waited 'til those green eyes were sufficiently glassed over before asking, "So what did he do?" Even if he knew the answer, it couldn't hurt to ask. "Want me to beat him up for ya?"

"If you don't get caught by the police, I give you full permission to kill the bastard." Arthur mumbled, his voice being affected by emotion, fatigue and alcohol. "Remember when you said I had a hickey? I did; and it was from that fucking wanker of all people. I was so plastered I didn't even realize just who I shagged. All I knew was that they spoke French." A few tears escaped as he put the glass down violently on the living room table. "I couldn't even piece the bloody information together!"

Well, that definitely meant Arthur had found out. Crap, now he was pissed off at Francis for letting him find out. Maybe alcohol was a good idea. "Well, that asshole. How dare he not tell someone he works with that they had slept together before " He said sarcastically. He should at least try to make things better.

Instead of replying, Arthur just continued to drink out of his seemingly endless glass. "Just let me get so drunk I pass out and forget all of this." He had mostly controlled his tears, but there was still a thick lump in his throat. All he wanted to do was forget at this point.

Alfred smiled as he once again filled Arthur's glass, as well as his own. "Well, the best way to forget an old lover is to get a new one." Of course, his voice gave it off as a flippant statement, but in reality there was still that small hope that wouldn't go away, no matter how many times he told himself it would never happen.

Looking over at Alfred with blood shot eyes and water still running down his body, he mumbled. "Kiss me." He continued after only getting a strange look from the taller male. "Prove that it would work: getting a new lover that is." Because of the booze running through his system, Arthur wasn't thinking of the possible problems it would cause. He was just intent on forgetting about just how depressed he was.

Eyes wide, Alfred backed up slightly. "Uh, what? Haha, Arthur, you're really drunk..." Oh but how he wanted to. How he wanted to violate those lips, hear a moan with an English accent. Did the accent show through with moans? But no, it would be bad, because he knew Arthur didn't feel the same way, and it would just make everything awkward and confusing, and they would stop being friends. So instead he gave another awkward laugh. "Come on, you don't want to..."

"Kiss me." He demanded again, sliding closer to the other man. Grabbing lightly onto his shirt, Arthur pulled him closer until they were just centimetres apart. "Humour me and do it." The person he was holding onto wasn't Alfred anymore. It was just some random blur that was offering to help take away his pain. The pain that didn't seem to be dissipating even through the sea of alcohol.

It seemed to take forever for those pink lips to reach his own, but Alfred knew it was a couple seconds. He had planned to pull away, but finally feeling what he had wanted to for so many years took away his self-control. He doubted he would have been able to pull away even if he was completely sober. Then they started moving, opening, releasing a clumsy tongue, and if there was a heaven, this must be the closest thing to it. Alfred opened his own lips, no longer in control of his body's movements.

Pushing his lips and tongue sluggishly, Arthur moved his arms from the front of the blond's shirt to around his neck, bringing them closer. He continued to slide up closer to him as well, trying to deepen the kiss as much as possible. The person he was kissing was right: he pretty much forgot just why he was upset in the first place.

Caught up in the kiss, Alfred moved his hands down to Arthur's hips. Should he go farther? Probably not. That wouldn't be good, but neither was kissing him like this. A second of clarity made him break their lips apart, but it disappeared and he bent his head to lightly suck on that lovely pulsing vein on Arthur's neck.

Arthur moaned slightly as his neck was licked and sucked. Rocking his hips that were still in the strong grip his incoherent moans managed to get out one word: "Mhh...Francis...." Through his newly formed lust, Arthur didn't even notice as the body beside his grew still.

Pulling back suddenly, Alfred looked away. "Um, you should probably, uh, get some sleep." He stood up without looking at the obviously turned on blond and walked somewhere. He didn't even seem to know his own house as he stumbled into a random room. Damn, why did he do that? He knew they were only friends, and would only ever _be_ friends.

Soon he was outside his apartment, knocking on Matthew's door. It didn't even matter that he had no clue how he had gotten there.

When the door suddenly slammed, Arthur was finally cleared of the desire that clouded his mind. The booze haze was still there, and he helped it grow by downing yet another glass. Maybe it wasn't the best of his drunk ideas to make out with Alfred then moan Francis' name, but there was a nagging sense that he was going to forget it all in the morning. God help them all if he still remembered it.

Still wearing his soaking clothes, the Briton grabbed the bottle of the comforting liquid and ambled his way to where he thought Alfred's bedroom was. After opening the door to his closet and bathroom first, he finally made it to his room. Taking a swig, he placed the bottle on top of his dresser and started digging through it for dry clothes. The Yank would just have to deal with him wearing his clothes.

As quick as his plastered mind would let him, Arthur peeled off the wet garments and then pulled on Alfred's oversized dry ones. Once they were all on, he then grabbed the bottle again and went out to the living room, sitting on the opposite side of the couch that he had soaked through.

Damn life! Why did everything terrible have to happen to him! And just why was it _him_ that the bloody Frenchman had to seduce and thus ruin his life? Arthur just wanted to get through life with an ok job and an annoying friend. He wasn't accounting on having all of this happen to him.

Eventually, he could barely even see his hands, never mind think of just how many mouthfuls of burning liquid he had swallowed. Alfred was still gone -'And who knew where' he thought- and Francis was somewhere else. Well, he thought he was. Just where was he? Wasn't all this his fault? The more liquor he consumed, the more his brain started to think strangely. Like, was it really _his _fault that he was upset, not Francis'? Maybe he was just sad that Arthur couldn't remember just how good their night had been together! Or maybe the stupid frog had just slept with his doppelganger! That would make sense!

Shite! If he yelled at him for sleeping with him but it was really his doppelganger, he should apologize! It would be the most gentlemanly thing to do! Now, he just had to try and remember his phone number...

Getting onto stumbling feet, Arthur almost felt face first onto the carpet before catching himself at the last second. He made his way over to get his cell phone and frowned as he opened it. He could have sworn it started with a two... Or was that a nine? Even his fingers weren't listening to his brain as they pressed random buttons.

With the phone on his ear, drunken tears started to fall down his face. How could he have been so rude to someone that cared enough about him to not want him to be upset about him cheating on him with his own doppelganger? Once the phone stopped ringing and the person on the other end answered, tears were freely falling down his face.

"Thank you for calling Panago Pizza, how can I help you?"

Through his drunken mind, he didn't even register that the voice didn't belong to the person he had meant to phone. "I'm so sorry Francis! I love you...I think... I understand that you only shagged my doppelganger and not me, so I'm sorry for calling you a... Whatever I called you, you bloody frog. Just come here and have sex with me before I run out of liquor!"

Shocked, the person on the other end just hung up quickly, causing Arthur to hang up as well and take a hearty swig, only to find there was just a bit left. Great... Now he was going to have to find more. He tried to walk over to where he thought the American hid his alcohol, but ended up falling on his face, almost smashing his nose.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me." The plastered man grumbled into the carpet. Bringing the empty bottle close to his body like how a child holds a teddy bear, Arthur promptly passed out, snoring obnoxiously.

* * *

Will Arthur remember what happened in the morning? Will Alfred ever be able to get over the kiss and the moaned name? Will Francis dance in a monkey suit to gain back the Brit's trust? You will just have to tune in next week to find out!


	18. Chapter 18

"Hey, Matt, can I come in?" Alfred asked when the Canadian opened his door, looking like he had just woken up.

Rubbing his eyes slightly, Matthew blinked quickly and smiled when he saw just who was at his door. "Sure Al, make yourself at home." His smile slowly slid off his face when he noticed just how depressed the tall blond seemed to be. "What's wrong?" He asked after locking his door again.

"Nothing, really." He couldn't say what was really wrong. Technically nothing was wrong, since him and Arthur were just friends. He shouldn't be this depressed about being friends, so nothing was wrong.

"I can tell something is wrong, but if you don't want to say, I understand." Sitting beside him on the couch, the shyer man just put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll listen."

Alfred smiled. "Yeah, I know you would." Damn, the alcohol was making him tired now. He leaned over and rested his head on Matthew's shoulder, closing his eyes. "You're a pretty cool guy, y'know."

Smiling through the blush that erupted on his face, Matthew could smell the tinge of alcohol on his breath. Maybe if they were in Canada drinking would be legal, but not here. "Thanks Al." Soon he heard the sounds of heavy breathing, signalling that he was asleep. Moving slowly, he made sure not to disturb him as he lay his neighbour down on his couch and covered him with a blanket.

With a second of bravery, he leaned down and lightly kissed the other's forehead, trying not to let the rush it gave him affect his thoughts. Something terrible must have happened to him, and he was just being a good friend.

Waking up suddenly, Alfred saw Matthew leaning over him. He was confused until he felt the blanket. "Oh, thanks." He smiled. Then he remembered about the other drunk person, just next door, that probably couldn't take care of himself. Knowing him, he was probably passed out somewhere and it wouldn't turn out well. But somehow this couch seemed much more comfortable than his bed. "Hey, can I use your phone?"

Freaking out that Alfred had probably just felt him kiss his forehead, he blushed furiously and stuttered. "Eh? S-sure I'll j-just go and g-get it..." Shaking a bit, he grabbed his cordless phone and handed it to the American.

"Thanks, babe." He said, and dialled the number. Why had he memorized it? Oh well. It rang for a while, but finally it was picked up. "Hey, Francis? It's Alfred. Come to my place and take care of Arthur."

When Alfred hung up and passed the phone back, Matthew's heart was still beating frantically. Was it just the alcohol speaking, or did he actually feel that way about him? It was too much for him to think about.

.oOo.

Groaning, Arthur swiped at the hands that were shaking him into consciousness. "Get the bloody hell off of me, you Yank. You abandoned me here so I have full rights to lay passed out on your floor, piss drunk." Instead of having a haze through his mind, he now had a blaring headache in its place.

"Get off the floor already." Francis said, trying to lift the limp body up and onto something more comfortable. "Really, if you can not hold your liquor, you should not be angry at the people who take advantage of you."

As if some long forgotten memory was just uncovered, Arthur opened a bloodshot eye to glance up. "Francis?" He croaked out, his entire body in pain and unwilling to cooperate. He could faintly remember being pissed off with him, but for what, he had no idea.

"Yes, yes, now stand up. I don't want to do all the work by myself." He resisted the urge to sprinkle his sentences with his native language, not wanting to anger the blond further. He had already spent about an hour looking for him in the cursed rain.

"And what if I refuse? The floor is mighty comfortable and I don't want to get up." Curling his hand around the bottle, he continued to stay unresponsive to Francis' attempts to get up. "I know I'm furious with you but I don't remember why."

"Dammit, fine! Stay on the floor." Francis stood up and started walking away, wanting to kick something. Sure, it was his fault Arthur was angry at him, but he didn't mean to piss him off, and he had spent a whole hour out in the rain looking for him, when he had been here getting drunk. Why did he care, anyway? He could have any guy he wanted, pretty much.

"Wait!" He garbled out, looking up from the floor at the retreating figure. "Stay here. I mean, I need someone to complain to... Plus you're able to walk and get more alcohol." Arthur's green eyes stared pitifully at Francis' cool blue ones.

Sighing, the Frenchman turned around. "You're definitely not getting more alcohol. But I guess you can't walk." He bent down, putting an arm under Arthur's shoulder, trying to help him up. "At least try."

Pushing up with the little strength in his legs, Arthur finally allowed himself to be pulled up and placed on the couch. "Why are you even here in the first place?"

Francis squatted down so he was face to face with the drunken man. "I'm here, to say I'm sorry. I should have told you, and it was a horrible thing for me to do."

With a frown, he just weakly pushed Francis' chest away. "Well I don't care. Unless you have rum somewhere that is." The only reason he didn't care was because he couldn't figure out just what he had to care _about_.

"If you had anything else to drink, you would probably die from alcohol poisoning. Now, shall we get in my car so I can drive you home?" He asked, standing up. Getting down the elevator would be an unpleasant experience, especially if there were two old ladies again...

"No." He said simply, falling over onto the rest of the couch. "I don't wanna."

"Well, I would think that dear Alfred would want his apartment back, and I see no reason to stay here when I can take you to your place." He said, when he finally read what was on Arthur's shirt. 'America, fuck yeah!' was scrawled across the black background. "I will assume you are wearing his clothes because yours were wet."

"Of course that's why." Even with Francis' argument, he continued to just lay there passively. As if struck by a lightening bolt, Arthur quickly jumped to his feet; swaying on the spot. "I have to go find my doppelganger! He's running around the city and who knows just what he's doing to my reputation!"

"What are you talking about?" Francis stood up as well. "You don't have a..." Then he stopped, wanting to use this to his advantage. "Well of course! Your doppleganger! Why else did you think I was taking you back to your place?"

Stumbling over to the door, Arthur leaned heavily on the wall as he tried unsuccessfully to put his shoes on the wrong feet. "What are you doing just standing there? Go get the carriage ready! If it hits midnight, I'll disappear and he'll take my place in the world!"

Francis looked to the clock, where it distinctly said it was already half past midnight. No disappearing tonight, princess. "Well, how are you going to get to the 'carriage' when you can't even walk? I have to help you there."

"You bloody well will frog!" He was still trying to shove his feet into the wrong shoes, grunting as he did so. "Why. Won't. These. Bloody. Things. Go. On!"

"Here." Francis sighed, kneeling down and grabbing a hold of one shoe. "Put your hand on my head so you can stand." He said, and lifted up a wobbly foot, slipping it into the right shoe. The hand in his hair tightened, so he put his foot down, and Arthur regained his failing balance.

Once his other shoe was on as well, Arthur then started to fumbled with the door, actually managing to open it. "Tally ho!" And with that, he started to run down the hallway, only running into the wall once.

As Arthur fumbled around the hallway, Francis caught up to him. "You do realize the elevator is that way, don't you?" He said, pointing down the hallway the opposite way the Englishman had run.

"I knew that!" He muttered before quickly turning around and running in the other direction. He had to be quick! There was something he had to ask his doppelganger, but he couldn't quite remember what...

Finally getting into the elevator, to the ground floor, and dragging Arthur out, Francis managed to toss him into the back seat of his car. "Here is a bag. If you puke in my car, you're the one cleaning it up tomorrow."

Grabbing onto the edge of the seat, Arthur just started mumbling nonsense to himself. Well, he could imagine that it seemed like nonsense to Francis, since he was muttering spells in an ancient to help make sure they would find his doppelganger. He was probably already having sex with someone as they looked for him! "Hurry the unicorns! Arthur two is getting away!"

Unicorns now? What, did he turn insane when drunk? "At least put a seatbelt on." Francis said from the drivers seat, pulling out into traffic. It was a good thing that he already knew where Arthur lived, because he certainly wouldn't be able to tell him now.

After a few seconds of struggling, he got the seatbelt on around himself. Arthur barely registered as the scenery flashed by, instead only thinking about just where they were going. "Where are you taking me?" Once again, his mind took a one-eighty as he forgot about just what they were trying to do.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Francis replied in an even tone. "We're going to your house. To catch your doppleganger, remember?"

"My what?" Now he had started to intently examine his hands, as if he had never seen them before. "Did you know that I have small fingers? At least I think they're small..."

Giving up trying to reason with the depleted logic of the blond, Francis continued driving, ignoring the random remarks coming from the back seat. At one time he looked out the window and started freaking out because the world was moving.

Finally, Arthur's stomach felt it as the car slowed to a stop outside an apartment building. He figured it was his, but he wasn't too sure since there was suddenly two of them. Staying still, he waited for Francis to opened his door and undo his seatbelt before he slowly slid out of the car.

Fully supporting Arthur's body as they walked to the entrance of the building, Francis stopped at the door. "Please tell me you have your key."

His chin digging into Francis' shoulder as he leaned all his weight on the other, Arthur just shrugged. "If you have my bloody jacket for some reason then it should be in there... I think." The Englishman's warm, alcohol laced breath blew across the man's ear by accident.

_Merde_, it was in his car. He put Arthur up against a wall and left. "I'll get it from my car. Stay there. No matter how many fairies and unicorns tell you otherwise." He said sarcastically.

"You say that now, but when they steal your underwear you'll be sorry!" He slurred as the other ran back down the stairs. Doing just as he said to do, he just stayed there; slowly sliding down the wall as his legs gave out below him.

Coming back with the jacket, Francis found Arthur on the floor, completely asleep. "Dammit, not again." He mumbled as he tried to pick up the sleeping man. Perhaps sleeping wasn't the proper word for it. Passed out would be better.

He fumbled around for the key and finally found it. Carrying a limp body was difficult, but he managed to bring him inside and dump him on the bed. "Well, what are the chances you will remember this in the morning?" He asked quietly to the unconscious man.


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning, Arthur awoke the same way he did after every night of heavy drinking: with an overbearing headache and the feeling as if each ray of light's personal goal in it's life was to spear out his eyes. Pulling his blankets around his head tighter, he quickly realized that it was _his _blankets and not Francis'. Or Alfred's for that matter... At least he was pretty sure he went to the American's house after getting annoyed with the bloody frog and running from his house.

Speaking of the insufferable Frenchman, he was pretty sure that he saw him before getting to his apartment... Just where was he now? Did he abandon him here to be drunk? Oh well, it didn't matter now. All he wanted to do was wallow in self-pity at the moment.

A few minutes into his 'pity party', his eyes flew open despite the pain. It was Thursday, and he had to work! Why didn't he think of that before! As much as he would have loved to hide all day from the world, he forced himself to get up and quickly get ready; skipping a shower so that he wouldn't waste more time and be even later. As he finished brushing he teeth Arthur then ran to his kitchen to get a piece of toast and found a note written in flowing, cursive writing. '_If you want your cellphone back, come see me when you get to work'_. Even though it wasn't signed, there were only two people it could have been from, and only one made sense. Damn French bastard.

In all honesty, the Briton didn't even notice that his cellphone was missing in the first place, but now he felt livid that the man had taken it. It was his own personal property! What gave him the feeling that he could take it!

As fast as he could without killing himself, Arthur made his way to his work and all but ran to Francis' office and knocked viciously on his door. Bloody wanker for taking his phone!

"_Oui_? Ah, Arthur, I see you got my note?" Francis said, smiling and standing up from his desk. The blond was obviously hung over, but stubbornly dragged himself to work. He would lie and say he was sick just to get someone to take care of him, but when he was feeling this bad, he still wouldn't call in sick. A true mystery.

"Yes, I got your bloody note. Just what are you doing, stealing my phone?" It took most of his willpower to stare determinedly at the other's eyes instead of closing them tightly from the bright florescent lights.

"Well, I figured you would only remember the bad things from last night, and therefore still be mad at me, so you would stay as far away as you could." He took out the phone and almost passed it to Arthur, taking it out of his grasp at the last second. "Only if you promise not to run away as soon as I give it to you."

"Whatever." Once the phone was handed to him, Arthur all but ripped it out of his hands. He was slowly remembering all that happened, and it was reminding him just why he was mad at the man.

With another determined glare, he stood still for a second before walking back to his cubicle.

"Dammit, I told him not to run away." Francis said, grinding his teeth slightly. He left his office and walked determinedly to Arthur's cubicle. "Did I not just tell you to not leave?"

Sitting at his desk, he massaged his temples. "You did not. I specifically remember you saying not to run away. I didn't run away; I walked."

"You know what I mean." Francis said, truly angry. Of course he wouldn't show it. What would the world think if the Love God was angry? It would ruin his image for sure. "Now will you listen to me?"

Arthur turned around and didn't even bother to hide his snarl. "Why do I have to? I'm at work if you haven't noticed; if you want me to listen, why don't you get me drunk and shag me first?"

"Well, you obviously don't remember what happened last night, so maybe I already have. But if you don't want to talk about it..." Francis shrugged and started walking away, deliberately slow.

"Wait, what?" Jumping up as fast as his sore body would let him, Arthur followed after him. "Are you saying that you took advantage of me again?"

"You said you didn't want to talk. And, if I might say, with how you are when you're drunk, it couldn't really be called taken advantage of. If you are fishing, and a fish jumps into your boat, guts itself, and lights a fire underneath it's body, would eating that fish be called taking advantage of it?"

"I resent that comment. All of those actually. I severely doubt that I act that way when drunk... Alfred or someone would have told me." Despite trying to sound confident, Arthur's brows furrowed in concentration. Just why was he cursed with memory loss when it was so important to remember!

"Resent as much as you want. I must get back to work, since you don't want to talk about last night." He didn't even turn around to look at Arthur, or else he would have seen the sly smirk on his face.

He walked a few steps to catch up to Francis and put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Fine then, I want to talk. Now tell me just what happened!" Throughout their entire argument, neither of there were worrying about the rest of their co-workers; both for different reasons. Arthur just forgot about the rest of them and Francis didn't care.

"Alright." He smiled and turned around. "Last night, I was called by Alfred to come and take care of you, because he was going to sleep over at someone named Matthew's place, and you were pissed drunk. I showed up, apologized, you forgave me, and we had sex."

A second passed. "You're lying." That was the only explanation. How could it be true anyways? He remembered getting to Alfred's apartment, but he was sure that he was the one to get him home. Wasn't he? Between that and waking up at home, it was all a big black spot.

"Alright, we didn't have sex." He admitted with a smile. Then the smile faded and he looked Arthur in the eyes. "But I _did_ say sorry. And I am."

"And why do I doubt that as well?" Sure he was being stuck up by now, but he wanted another apology if he could get one out of the narcissistic blond.

"_Je suis désolé. Je suis très désolé. S'il-vous plaît pardonnez-moi, mon cher._ " He said, grinning. So what if Arthur hated French? He still understood what he was saying, even if he would never admit it.

With another glare, he just mumbled. "If that was in English I just might think about one day possibly forgiving you. That is, if you stop being such a perverted Frenchman."

"No chance of that, _mon amour_. But it is too late, I can tell by your eyes you have already forgiven me." He smiled, stepping into his office, not yet closing the door. "My place on Friday? Or perhaps you would rather your place, since we have already done it in my house?"

"What is with your assumptions that I would have sex with you after 'forgiving' you?" He didn't do it intentionally, but Arthur had followed Francis all the way back to his office.

Closing the door just enough so Arthur could see his face, Francis winked. "Because you know just as well as I know that you're going to let me in your house on Friday."

His stomach doing a little flip, the Englishman went back to his cubicle. The entire time he worked for the rest of the day was spent concentrating on just how much he hated the escargot eating, slimy little frog.

It took a few more hours until Japan was polite enough to quietly tell him that his shirt had been inside-out all day so he could quickly go and fix it. Also, it didn't help his work ethic that he was working through a terrible hangover and everyone seemed to want to talk in loud, obnoxious voices all day. Or the fact that Alfred decided on his lunch break to continually text Arthur with strange, awkward sounding messages.

.oOo.

Francis made his way through the crowded bar, being followed by three hot guys, all younger than him. He finally found the table that Gilbert and Antonio had chosen to inhabit. "_Bonjour_! So I know I just got here, but I already found three guys, so I will be going." He smiled excitedly, showing off the trio. One had blond hair and grey eyes, the second had red hair and green eyes, and the third was in truth kind of bland, with both brown hair and eyes.

The third stepped up. "'Ello. Bloody noisy in here." The English accent rolled off his tongue smoothly.

Looking at each other, Gilbert and Antonio both raised an eyebrow. They leaned in closer to each other and whispered. "Do they seem...?"

"Yeah, just a bit..." They looked back to the grinning Frenchman surrounded by his one-night stands. "Hey Frenchy, do you recognize something with each of your boy-toys?" The German spoke up.

Smiling, he replied. "Yeah, I know." His smile grew impossibly big. "Sexy, aren't they?"

"That too," Antonio started to explain, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. "But we meant their individual features that make them look like a certain person you know." Normally the Spaniard would have been just as oblivious as Francis was being, but he noticed the hair, eyes and accent immediately. Maybe Lovi would be proud of him because of it!

"Oh, you're right." He said thoughtfully, looking back at his lovers for the night. "Yes, my neighbour has grey eyes, red hair, and sometimes wears white pants, too. Wow, what a coincidence!"

Sighing exasperatedly, Gilbert slammed his now empty beer mug on the bar table. "Not that you shit head! The fact that they look and sound like that quick fuck you had that's your coworker now!"

Francis laughed, once again looking at the small group waiting for him. "You guys are strange. But I shall be going now. Have fun." He dipped down close enough to whisper into Gilbert's ear, "I think I left enough people for you to pick up tonight, _non_?"

As the Parisian man walked away, Antonio just laughed lightly as Gilbert huffed. "And why can he get anyone! It takes me a bit just to find a suitable fuck buddy and he can go into a building and find _three_ that look just like his little pissed off British lover."

Antonio just smiled as he finished off his glass of red wine. "His passion for his little blond makes it easier for him to catch those that are similar. Obviously you noticed as well that they all looked like him... Do you remember his name?"

"I think he said it was 'Arthur' or some other regal 'I've-got-a-stiff-upper-lip-and-a-stick-up-my-ass' kind of name." Gilbert's red contact eyes started scanning the bar for his next night partner.

"Sounds familiar." With a nod, the laid-back Spaniard waved over the cute bartender and gave him a coy wink. "Our glasses seemed to have become empty, would you be able to fill them for us?" As the bartender grabbed their glasses and got to work, Antonio mumbled. "But, I am a bit worried for him. It's not like Francis to become so attached to one person."

Grinning, the self-proclaimed Prussian -He didn't care that everyone told him that the country no longer existed, he was Prussian God dammit! Not German!- took the beer mug from the bartender. "Who really gives a flying fuck? He can screw everyone that has blond hair, green eyes and a British accent as long as he leaves the rest of them for the awesome me."

With a mischievous grin, Antonio asked. "Then what about that precious little brother of yours? I know my Lovi will be safe because he doesn't meet any of the requirements~"

"Shut the hell up you pansy! I don't have a bro complex and you know it! What about you and your little shota-complex! That little Italian bastard must be only like fifteen!"

Antonio frowned. "He's twenty, not fifteen. I would feel bad if I wanted to take advantage of a little boy, even if he was as cute as Lovi~." Lost in his own fantasies of running in fields of flowers with a cute Italian, he didn't notice when Gilbert got up from the stool quickly and left him to go find someone to sleep with for the night.


	20. Chapter 20

A bouquet of roses in hand, Francis smiled as he pushed the button to Arthur's apartment. "_Bonjour_, Arthur. Let me up, will you?"

At the same time that Francis was trying to get into his apartment, Arthur was walking around New York aimlessly again. After work, he took a taxi home before remembering quickly that the bloody frog was going to invite himself over. He really didn't want that to happen, so in a stroke of immaturity he walked off, trying to get himself lost so he would have a viable excuse as to why he didn't answer his phone.

It didn't take him long though to feel bad about acting so childish by making the Frenchman have to stay outside. Yes, he wanted to keep him out, but not completely ignore him. No matter how annoyed he got, he wouldn't want to ruin his gentleman reputation, no matter how tarnished it might be.

Walking back in the direction of his apartment building, the Briton saw the man standing outside of it, muttering to the door with a bouquet of roses in his hand. The wine-faced git. Without a word, he got out his key and pushed past him, opening the door and tried to shut it in his face. "Go away. We don't want your kind around here."

"Ah, I think my kind would be much more appreciated than your kind." Francis said, quickly sliding his foot in the door. Arthur tried half-heartedly to close it but soon gave up.

"Just go. You're not coming up to my apartment!" Arthur tried arguing but the Parisian man just pushed his way through the door. He may have made it through one door, but he wasn't going to be getting through the next.

"Oh, so you would rather go to my house? Or maybe a hotel. Don't worry, this time I will take you to a decent one." He smiled, following right behind the blond. "Oh, and these are for you." Francis handed the bouquet of roses to him. "Red roses means love."

With a light blush -Not because he was embarrassed! It was because it was cold outside...- Arthur took the flowers angrily, purposely ignoring the hotel comment. "Good thing when they dry they become black. That means death, if you couldn't figure that one out."

"Ah, but my love for you will never die." Francis loved his lines like those. They didn't have to be true, but people usually believed them anyway. They really helped with some men. Not, apparently, this one.

"And neither will my hatred, so I guess we're both even." Holding the flowers still, he fished around in his pocket for his key and tried to open his door without Francis slipping inside but to no avail. The bloody wanker got in before Arthur and started to take off his jacket. "Most people would wait for permission you know. Well, at least those with class and sophistication that you are obviously lacking."

"Well, if I waited for permission, your pride would make you close the door, and neither of us would get what we truly wanted tonight. Or were you thinking something different would happen? I go outside and climb up with your long hair, perhaps? _Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair_."

"Sure, let's try that. As long as you promise to wait outside there for me and never move. Ever." It wasn't as if he was sincerely hoping Francis would actually do it, but it was the thought that counted. He went into his kitchen and started up a pot of water, hoping to drown himself in tea if not alcohol. "Go sit down so I don't have to deal with your hideous face any longer then I have to."

"Don't you want me to go outside?" He smiled, going to the living room and opening the large window. "Perhaps I should just jump down from here. It would be faster, after all."

Arthur watched as the sapphire-eyed man opened his window and grinned over at him. "Or how about you do it from another apartment. I don't want anyone thinking I'm some sort of escaped criminal from Britain." Unconsciously, he had walked closer to him so that he could try and stop him from jumping.

Stepping away from the window, Francis wrapped a sly arm around Arthur's waist. "Well, then we wouldn't be able to continue with tonight's events." He placed a quick kiss on an exposed part of Arthur's collarbone.

"Whoever said there was going to be a 'tonight's events'?" Arthur mumbled as his face flushed. Pushing the wavy haired man away, he went back into the kitchen after closing the window. Just even smelling Francis' cologne had made him blush faintly from the memories the scent held.

"Why try to deny it? We both know what will happen tonight, and we both know that you will enjoy it." He walked back up to Arthur, pressing their bodies together and lightly brushed a tangled strand of hair out of those green eyes.

Once again, his olfactory nerves as well as his body were assaulted by all things French. Arthur just peeled the body off of him again and waited angrily for the tea water to boil. Just why did it have to take so bloody long! "Don't stare assuming things. We both know just what that does to people." He brought his hand up to his face where Francis' fingers had lightly brushed against it.

"Fine, I wont assume things." He went back to the living room and sat down. Arthur couldn't see him from where he was, so he took off his shirt and pants, leaving only underwear.

When the water was finally at a boil, Arthur poured some into a teacup; already having gotten the tea leaves ready to soak. A minute went by of strained silence as he watched the tea diffuse through the water. When it was done, he took a hearty smell of the warm steam and closed his eyes as he walked into the living room, taking a quick sip with his eyes still shut as he sat down on what he thought was the couch, but was lumpy. Finally opening his eyes, he saw Francis smirking up at him from where he was sitting on his legs. Not only was he sitting on him though, but he was sitting on him as he was _naked_. Well, he had underwear on, but that was significantly less then what he left him with.

Freaking out, the Englishman jumped a foot in the air with a manly shriek, causing his tea to spill everywhere, including a bit on the blond below him. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Ow! That is really hot!" Francis said, fanning his crotch. Luckily it hadn't hit the important part, but that was still close. "I demand you kiss it better. It was your fault, after all."

"I am not kissing _that_ better!" Arthur yelled down at the Frenchman, seeing just where he was talking about. And he didn't even get to enjoy the tea at all! "It was your fault that I split it anyways!"

"You told me to go sit in the living room, and that is exactly what I am doing. It was your fault that you didn't look where you were sitting." The burn on his inner thigh started to fade, the pain hardly anything now. "Well, are you going to kiss it better or not?"

Arthur blushed again. "No, I am not putting my mouth anywhere in that area." Quickly, he went back to the kitchen to make another cup of tea. This one he was going to drink while safely away from the Parisian.

Well, this was moving slower than Francis had expected. They had already had sex twice, and Arthur knew about both of them now! Even if he only remembered one. But no, miss-prude had to have tea first. He was starting to remember why he had changed to guys instead of girls.

Standing by himself in his kitchen, Arthur pored himself another cup and waited a bit for it to cool down. Was the Frenchman going to jump him as soon as he let his guard down? He probably was going to, knowing him. Any second now...

Francis just sat on the couch, one piece of clothing away from nakedness. Really, how long did it take to make tea? It was just some leaves you put in hot water, really. Not like cooking things, which actually took time, and there was actually a chance to mess it up. Tea was fool-proof, which was obvious, because Arthur could make it.

Since he wasn't able to see Francis, the Englishman decided to poke his head out to the living room to see just where he was. "I'm coming out there, and if you're doing anything inappropriate I expect you to stop before I get there."

"What, do you expect me to be pleasuring myself on your couch? That is what I have you for." Francis said, putting a leg up on the seat and stretching out, not at all self-conscious about the fact that he was wearing only boxers.

Blushing, Arthur was extremely glad at that point that he had a chair as well as his couch. As dignified as he could with his face burning up, he said. "I think your ego has been growing for too long." He obviously didn't mention the fact that as the other spread himself over his furniture, his mind and eyes started to wander where they shouldn't.

"There is something else that is growing long, as well." He smiled with a raised eyebrow. He really didn't expect anyone dense enough to not understand what he meant, but with the Englishman, you never know.

"I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say anything, and that in fact you aren't even here." With that, he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, taking a dainty sip from his teacup.

Well, if he was going to pretend he wasn't there, than maybe it was time to make his presence known. Francis slid off the couch and over to the chair. Luckily Arthur was so engrossed in his tea to notice. But it would be difficult to make the next part go unnoticed, so he just unzipped his fly as fast as he could.

Even though he was surprised, Arthur managed to not send his tea flying this time as he yelled at the smirking man. "Stop touching me!" The Briton snapped, pushing him away with his leg.

"I refuse. You are trying to ignore me, so I am simply entertaining myself." He went back to his crotch, grabbing the arm that wasn't holding the teacup so he wouldn't get pushed away this time.

"Entertain yourself by going for a walk and leaving me the hell alone you wanker!" With his hand being held away, holding the teacup and saucer and pushing Francis away with his foot, Arthur couldn't do much as his crotch was molested.

Francis smiled as he slipped his hand into the slit in the boxers, taking out Arthur's cock, hearing a small gasp. He put his face closer, playing his warm breath over the hardening flesh. "Are you meaning to say you don't want me to continue?"

The sound of the teacup breaking went through the room as Arthur quickly grabbed Francis' wavy blond hair with his now free hand. Before he could react, he then brought his face up and quickly smashed their lips together in a furious kiss before his entire body blushed and he mumbled. "Now get the bloody hell out of my apartment."

"Mm, that was nice." Francis smiled and glanced down obviously. "Your mouth says I should go, but down here is telling me to stay." He bent and gave a long lick to the now-straining cock. "Which one should I listen to?"

"Listen to the one that can think!" Arthur growled deeply, his face a bring red. How could Francis affect his body so well and so fast? He was impossible to figure out, the bloody git.

"Well, since men think with their penis, I will gladly continue." Francis said, bending down so he was level with the head he was referring to. He dipped his tongue into the slit on the top, looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes.

The sight of having Francis bending over his swollen cock with his tongue doing unimaginable things to his prick made the Englishman close his eyes tight. Gritting his teeth, he stopped himself from whimpering as it was continually licked and sucked. He let go of his death grip on his chair arms in favour of holding tightly onto the blond, silky hair.

When he felt that hand on his head, Francis pulled away, a small string of precum and saliva connecting his mouth to that lovely shaft for a second. "Well, I am already naked, but you are slightly over-dressed for the occasion."

His forehead twitched as the mouth was removed from his length. "I think you're perfectly capable of fixing that problem yourself." Arthur opened his eyes a hair to look down again at the almost naked man.

"But I want a strip-tease!" Francis put his bottom lip out exaggeratedly, pouting for all he was worth. Then he smiled and snuggled closer, putting his head on Arthur's lap and looked up at him. "Please?"

"That's it; Leave." Despite how embarrassed he was and the precarious situation he was in as well, Arthur pushed Francis' head off his lap. "If you want someone to do that, go out and pay someone to use your unhelpful 'skills' on."

"I've never had to pay someone in my life, and I will not start now." Francis lifted his head up from the comfortable lap and stood up. "But, I just realized that since you are so not cute, you doing a strip-tease would be completely useless." He said, lifting his hands up to start undoing Arthur's shirt. Seriously, why did he always have to wear button up shirts? They were so annoying to take off.

"I told you to leave!" He then hit the annoying hands off his chest and looked over to the wall so he wouldn't have to look at those dark, seductive eyes. Arthur was desperately trying to ignore his presence and the fact that his dick was now pulsing slightly. The 'not cute' comment didn't hurt him at all, since he already knew it was the truth.

"But you don't want me to, _non_?" He said, sliding his hand up Arthur's chest, having finally gotten his shirt open. He leaned in and placed his lips lightly on their counterparts, and watched green eyes flicker closed.

His hips twitching up a bit at the close contact, Arthur didn't push away until a few second had gone by. What had happened to his original disgust? Even then, he only pushed weakly without much conviction. His prick just wanted to be touched and he didn't want to admit it. "Stop understanding me so well." The Brit mumbled, looking beside him at the floor.

"Mm, too bad, I have a super power that lets me understand the people I am in love with." Francis smiled as he lowered his head slightly to place kisses along Arthur's jaw-line while his hand pinched one hardened nipple. "See? Like this, you are cute."

"Shut the bloody hell up. Obviously it's a lie, compared to your previous comment and I see no reason for you to say it in the first place." Frowning, he allowed himself to wallow somewhat; causing him to ignore the kisses and touches to his body.

"Before," kiss, "when you were," kiss, "being stubborn," kiss, "you weren't cute." This time he kissed those delicious lips and looked Arthur in the eyes. "But now you are cute."

* * *

Sorry about that, but we will continue this scene in the next chapter!


	21. Chapter 21

His frown intensified. "I told you to shut up. And are you going to leave now? I'd appreciate it if you did." Arthur did everything in his power to keep from looking into those sultry eyes. If he did, he knew that Francis would get the better of him.

"You don't want me to go. You want me to stay here, even if you're too stupid to admit it." Next he went to work on Arthur's pants, annoyed that he was sitting down. "A little help would be nice."

Lifting his hips, he continued to look away from the other man. "I'm not too stupid. I know exactly what I want, and that is for you to leave me alone."

"You may know what you want, but you never say it." Francis quickly yanked Arthur's pants off in one smooth motion. "If you truly wanted me to leave, why would you have lifted up your hips for me?"

If he could be swallowed up by the chair, now would be the time he wished it would happen. Maybe it was actually some long lost dimension portal to Narnia... "Just go." He said again, knowing full well his demand would be brushed off.

"No." Francis said simply, twirling some of Arthur's hair around his finger. He took one lean leg in his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb. "With legs this smooth, people might think you shave."

"Who cares what people think. It's not like normal people go around feeling each other's legs. Maybe it's one of your messed up habits, but everyone already knew that you are no where near normal."

Smiling seductively, Francis placed kisses all along those fine legs, his hair hanging around his face so he could hardly see. "Being normal is so boring, _non_?"

Shivering from the kisses on his legs as well as the stubble lightly brushing them, Arthur just grunted. "You should try it for a while; being normal that is. Then you can say if it's boring or not."

A low chuckle, deep in his throat. "I was normal when I was back home. In France, this is completely normal. Here I get so much more reaction, so it is better." His hands slid farther up Arthur's gorgeous legs, to the sensitive inner thigh.

"Just because the French are culturally perverted doesn't mean that you should take advantage of that fact in America." Even as his inner thigh was lightly brushed, he forced himself to finish his sentence. If it was anyone else, he would have jumped down and taken the other quickly and forcefully by this point, but since it was Francis, he still didn't want to do it with him.

It might have been their third time about to shag, but Arthur still didn't want the wine bastard. Of course not. His hand might be extremely close to his straining prick, but he wasn't going to do anything about it but growl. That's all.

"Stop your bloody teasing and just touch me already!"

"Your wish is my command." The hand that was previously on Arthur's thigh was lifted and one finger slid up the length of his cock. Alright, so he was still teasing, but he wanted Arthur to beg. Just slightly.

He wasn't going to beg. He wasn't going to beg. He wasn't going to... Bloody hell. "Put your mouth to good use and suck me off!" If it was possible, his entire body flushed red at his own forwardness.

"That isn't very polite of you. You didn't even say please." Where was this slightly sadistic side coming from? Francis had never felt that before. He smeared around the precum with his thumb.

Bucking into the touch, Arthur finally looked down at the man between his legs and promptly lost all his willpower to stop either of them. "I'll fucking say please when I want to. Now suck me off and then get the bloody hell out of here." A mean gleam found its way into his emerald eyes as he stared down sapphire coloured ones that were glinting up at him.

"So if I don't suck you off, I won't have to leave? Alright." He continued to play with the cock with his hand, but didn't bring his mouth closer. "By the way, are you fine with doing this here?"

"Argh!" Arthur exclaimed, finally releasing his anger towards Francis. He all but jumped to his feet and started stomping over to his bedroom, dragging the Parisian by his hair. "Bedroom. Now." Normally he would have felt awkward walking the short distance to his room with a full, weeping erection, but something about the man changed his disposition.

"Ah!, _Mon cher_, let go of my hair!" Francis twisted out of the grip, rubbing his head. "That hurt." He followed the blond into his bedroom, and took down his boxers that he had kept on till now.

"Does it seem like I fucking care by this point?" He didn't wait for the Frenchman before climbing up onto his bed and looking over his shoulder as the other did as well.

"Someone is eager." The Frenchman said as he also climbed into the bed, crawling on top of Arthur, running his hands along the side of his body. "I hope you aren't thinking you are going to be on top."

"If you stop torturing me, I won't. But that's only if you start shagging me _now_." Arthur had throw away all of his pride at this point; his prick demanding his mouth to say all these things to finally get the friction it desired. Damn that snail-eating git for being so bloody attractive and invasive. If it wasn't for his off-hand comments, none of this would have happened, he was sure of it.

"Ah, but if I did that, you would be the one regretting it. Should I even bother asking if you have any lube?" Francis said, wishing he had brought some. It looked like they were going to have to use saliva like the first time.

A second of silence passed as Arthur tried to rut himself against the Frenchman's stomach. "...Under the bed in a box." He didn't have to say more than that.

Well, that was surprising. Francis leaned over the bed, looking under it and sure enough found a box. "Even you can have a naughty box. Amazing." He opened the lid and reached inside, pulling out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. "A _really_ naughty box."

His face turning back to its regular red whenever Francis was around, Arthur tried fighting for the box. "Just get the lube and put it back! Stop looking!"

"Oh, what else is in here?" In the struggle, the box fell on the floor, spilling all its contents. Francis started laughing almost immediately. "You have a vibrator!" He went to examine things more thoroughly. "A porn magazine? And, not a girl in it. And you tried to say you weren't gay."

Arthur attempted to push Francis off the bed. "Do you want me to castrate you right now?" Even through the struggle and the embarrassment, his prick didn't soften at all; too needy for attention at this point.

"Well that would be no fun." Francis picked out of the pile a small bottle of lube. "You should really get rose scented lube. It's the best." He crawled back on the bed, squirting some on his finger.

With a growl, he just watched as the Frenchman warmed up the slick liquid a bit before bringing his hand down between his legs. When the first finger slipped in, Arthur simultaneously pushed himself onto the digit and fisted the sheets below them. Now that he was finally being touched again, his cock twitched slightly even though it wasn't the part getting the friction.

"Like this, you are also cute." Francis smiled, leaning down to kiss him on the lips, opening his mouth as the other was opened, tongues entwining. He pulled away slightly. "You're not much for foreplay, are you?"

Deciding not to answer with words, Arthur just pulled the other's head back down to continue assaulting each other's mouths as another finger joined the first. Cringing a bit, he allowed them to start scissoring apart to eventually make way for a third and then Francis' prick. Arthur wanted to pin the reason why he was shagging the blond on the fact that he was just desperate, but then why would he do it with him three times?

As he was stretched, he took one of his hands and put it between their bodies, grabbing a hold of both of their cocks before slowly starting to pump. The Frenchman was already as hard as he was, so it didn't take long before they had to pull away from each other to grab a quick breath and for Arthur to release a pent up moan.

His third finger went in fairly easily, Francis noted. With Arthur's hand on his cock, he wanted to get inside him as soon as possible, but he didn't want to hurt the blond. Something this precious should be handled with care, and put in a glass case, and - oh fuck this. He took his fingers out and placed himself at the entrance without even putting lube on his own shaft. "Are you ready?"

"Just do it!" Arthur snapped, trying to push himself onto the Parisian's length. His embarrassment somehow had managed to turn into extreme lust and he was ready to be throughly fucked into his bed by the perverted man.

Francis thrust his hips forward, entering Arthur as slowly as was possible for him right now, which wasn't slow at all. He gave a small groan of pleasure and leaned as far down as he could in this position, needing more physical contact.

As soon as Francis was completely in him and starting to thrust, the Brit wrapped his legs around the other, urging him to move more. Moaning as he complied to his silent demand, Arthur arched his back, making their chests touch for a moment.

"_Merde_, you are so good." Francis bent down, kissing him on the neck, his cheek, anywhere he could. "I love you, _mon cher_."

"Fuck... You..." He managed to grunt out, pulling their mouths together once more. A few seconds of duelling teeth, tongues and lips were stopped as Arthur continued, his eyes almost black with his sexual appetite. "Stop bloody say-_ah!_-ing things like that! Y-you probably say them -_Ohgod_- to everyone!" Through his 'speech', neither had slowed down with their love making, if anything the Englishman was rocking faster onto Francis' prick.

"Not true." Francis said quietly, barely succeeding to keep his voice level. He didn't say it to _everyone_, of course. There were some men that wanted to hear it before going to bed, but he didn't usually say it unless he had to. So he was saying it to Arthur because... he wanted to? Whatever, his mind was too filled with the blond right then to think of complex things like that.

Arthur just grit his teeth together as they continued to move together. He didn't hear just what Francis said, but it was probably something perverted like everything else that came out of his mouth. With his legs already around the other, he then put his hands on the bed to lift him up a bit to be able to push harder down.

Balancing himself on one hand, Francis reached down to fumble with Arthur's weeping cock, surprised by just how hard it had gotten. "You are still so tight, even though this is the third time we have made love."

"Shut the fuck up." It was still a sore spot for him to know that they in fact had already had sex before the 'first time' because that meant that the Frenchman knew he could probably get it again from him. It wasn't as though he didn't want to boink someone but having it be Francis was a low blow to his pride in a way.

"If you tell everyone to shut up, and everyone does, it would be a very boring life." The Frenchman said right before he brought his mouth to Arthur's so that he wouldn't have to hear his retort. It was possibly the best way to shut someone up.

When Arthur tried to pull away from the kiss, Francis just pushed his mouth back down on his so that he still wasn't able to respond. It wasn't as if he could anyways, from being shagged and having his prick being fondled. As it was, he was already gasping and moaning into the mouth on his.

He watched in pleasure as Arthur arched his back after a particularly deep thrust. Francis moved his hips slightly, trying for a different angle so that he was sure to hit that sweet spot with each thrust. He let those soft English lips fall from his as he said, "Well, I have said I love you, do you have a reply for me?"

With a loud moan from his sweet spot being hit, Arthur gasped out. "No." And left it at that. He wasn't going to tell Francis that if it was a lie. Because it still would have been one... Wouldn't it? There was no way he was already in love with the insufferable blond.

"Thanks, I knew you loved me too." Francis bent down and kissed Arthur once again, wanting more contact. From the way the blond put his arms around him, pulling their bodies closer, he could tell that Arthur needed the same thing.

The feel of their sweat slicked bodies touching each other just amplified the desire Arthur had to orgasm. Not because he wanted to finish, but more because he was getting so much attention to his lower half that he could feel how close he was.

"You better not try to run away again after you finish." Francis said between thrusts. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on the simple rhythm, his hips just wanting to get in there as fast and as often as possible, caring nothing for timing. He could tell they were both getting close.

"It's m-_ah_-y apaaaaahrtment. Why w-would I run?" His words started morphing together and coming out more as moans as he started jerking back onto the shaft inside him irregularly. It just took a few more sporadic thrusts inside him and a few hard pulls on his weeping cock before he released hard onto both of their stomachs, causing him to yell as he rode the waves of his climax.

Not being able to last much longer than his partner, Francis picked up the pace of his thrusts, digging his fingers into Arthur's hips to pull in farther. Then he came, feeling as if liquid fire was spilling from him into the Englishman.

The feel of the Parisian filling him with his boiling hot load caused Arthur to jerkily let go of his body and laid his feet back on the bed, keeping his arms around the blasted Frenchman. Together, they panted off the high they were both in before he turned on his side, trying to ignore the Frenchman that was still over top of him.

"Are you going to let me stay? Because either way, I am not getting off this bed 'til morning, and neither are you." Francis said, sliding off Arthur and holding their sweaty bodies tight together.

"Well then don't touch me." He whispered threateningly, already falling asleep. If Francis had to be there with him, he wasn't about to allow him to molest him in his sleep.

Not saying anything, Francis just continued to hold him close, placing his body so it was against Arthur's, bending his knees so they were the same. Arthur rested his head on the Frenchman's arm, almost completely asleep. A thought quickly went through Francis' head about how nice it was that they were spooning.


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning, Arthur awoke to find a hand around his waist, holding him close to the attached body. Glaring for all he was worth, he then looked over his shoulder to see Francis looking down at him, a lazy smile on his face. "I thought I told you not to touch me." He grumbled.

"And you actually thought I would listen?" He trailed his hand up and down Arthur's waist, making small figure-eights. Then he leaned down, stealing a morning kiss.

The Englishman pulled away from the embrace to frown. "Don't kiss me when you have disgusting morning breath." He let the hand stay on his waist though, even if he was annoyed with the person it was attached to.

"Well, what sort of food do you have that I can scrape a breakfast together with? Do you at least have eggs?" He asked, sitting up on the bed. Francis ran his hand through his hair, untangling it from the mess it was.

"I'm not sure." Arthur answered truthfully, cringing when he saw the dried cum on both of their stomachs as well as how sore his bottom was. He was just somewhat glad that it didn't hurt as much as it did the other two times when he woke up afterwards.

"Well, get up, we can wash quick, and then we will find out if I have to go and get something." Francis stood up, waited for Arthur, and headed to the bathroom. When they were both in, he put his arms around that thin waist. "Want to shower together?"

"No." He growled out, not wanting to waste his effort on insulting the Frenchman. Pulling out of the hold, he then blushed as he realized that they were both as naked as the day they were born. "Go away and let me shower." As if to prove he was fine to be by himself, he walked over to the shower with only a little bit of a limp.

"I'm dirty, too. It will save water, and I have already seen you naked many times." He stepped into the shower, not letting Arthur say no. It was quite a small shower... but all the better.

Arthur just watched as Francis went into his shower and beckoned him with a finger. Just who did he think he was? "I am _not_ having a shower with you, and that is final!" Forgetting for a second that he was still naked, his arms crossed in front of his body instead of covering himself up.

"Why not? I won't molest you, and I will make your hair perfect." Instead of that ratty mess. And he could, because today was Saturday, and therefore they would not be seeing anyone from work who could oogle his play thing.

"I don't care what my hair looks like. Have your own shower and then leave." He was starting to lose his patience with Francis, mostly because he was getting under his skin like how only he could.

"Stop being a little kid that has a temper tantrum when he is supposed to have a bath and get in the shower. You are so irrational." Francis pretended like he was getting annoyed. For some reason that seemed to work with the blond.

With a huff, Arthur walked over to the shower and pushed his way in. "I am not irrational or immature." He then started the shower, trying to desperately ignore the hands that were wandering over his buttocks and waist. "I thought you said you wouldn't molest me, frog."

"I am simply washing you. And I am not touching your cock or your _derrier_, so it is not considered molesting." He smiled, grabbing the shampoo, thinking briefly about all the things he could do with that shampoo. He poured some on that tangled blond hair, rubbing it in with his fingers.

Going against his mind, he leaned back into the touch, murmuring about how much he hated Francis and how he should just rip his dick off. Maybe then his libido would slow down. For those few moments that the Frenchman was washing his hair, he had grown almost docile. Well, as docile as he would ever be around the pervert.

Slightly surprised about how calm the blond was being, Francis smiled. How to tame the wild animal. Of course, by that he could either be referring to Arthur himself, or his hair.

Arthur broke out of his reverie enough to start washing off his stomach with soap. Even though he was embarrassed to do so, he also washed between his legs, making sure to get the cum off of there. Francis muttered something in his ear about rinsing the shampoo off, but he didn't comprehend it, too busy feeling his fingers running calmly through his hair.

Francis reached up to grab the shower head, bringing it down to rinse out all the shampoo. He admitted to himself with a smile that the sight of Arthur reaching down between his legs was nice.

All clean and without distracting hands in his hair, the Briton stepped out of the shower quickly and grabbed a towel to dry himself off with. Damn frog for somehow convincing him to shower together. At least nothing bad had come about because of it. He rubbed the towel over his hair first, then down his body and finally he tied it around his waist.

Quickly running the water through his hair and body, Francis stepped out of the shower as well. Arthur was already out, so he dried himself off and followed, just in time to see the blond pulling up a pair of pants.

Once he was dressed, Arthur then went out to his kitchen where a still naked Frenchman stood with a couple of eggs and a frying pan. He quickly looked away with a blush before yelling. "What are you doing in my kitchen buck naked! At least be somewhat decent and put trousers on, or at least a towel for God's sake!"

"There is no one else here, and you have already seen me naked. I don't see a problem." Francis said, starting to make fried eggs. There wasn't anything in this house to cook with! Not even cheese for a cheese omelet!

"Well that's beside the point! I don't _want_ to see you naked, so you are going to wear something, is that clear?" With the smell of cooking eggs wafting through the air, Arthur went back to his room and grabbed Francis' trousers from his floor and then went back and threw them at him. "Now put them on!"

"But this is a very delicate part in the cooking process, and if I take the time to put my pants on, they will turn out horribly." Of course it was a lie. There _were_ no delicate parts in cooking fried eggs. He just liked being naked.

"Shut the stove off then and put your bloody trousers on!" He didn't care if they ended up burnt; they would just be like his own cooking then anyways, and he had grown used to eating food that resembled charcoal. After all, he had to live by himself for so long, so he had to learn to tolerate it.

"No." He said simply, flipping over the eggs. There wasn't even toast! At least he had salt and pepper, but not much else. These would be completely bland. "You should go out shopping once in a while."

A hiss escaped his lips. "Don't even try to change the subject. Shut the bloody stove off and put your trousers on before I have to do so myself!" Maybe that wasn't the best threat he could give the perverted Frenchman.

Francis swayed his hips slightly, sticking his butt out. "Alright then. Go for it." He glanced over his shoulder at the enraged blond, absentmindedly taking care of the eggs.

"Fine!" The Englishman didn't even think about what he had just gotten himself into. Instead, he marched determinedly over to where Francis stood naked and squatted behind him with his trousers in hand. "Feet." He ordered, holding the garment for him to slip on.

"Oh, you're good at that." Francis joked, lifting one foot and then the next. Arthur yanked up his pants unceremoniously, and the Frenchman was laughing through the whole thing. "Why thank you. Maybe you should live with me so you can dress me every day!"

"Fuck you, you lecherous frog." Stomping back to his room, he slammed his door and crawled back in his bed, wishing that he had a lock and trying not to think of the things that could be still on his sheets.

When the eggs were done, Francis put them on a plate and took them into Arthur's bedroom. "You really seem to like breakfast in bed. But then again, you seem to like everything in bed."

"Leave me alone." He mumbled from under the covers, facing away from the bloody Frenchman and his sodding eggs. Arthur didn't want to have to deal with him anymore. Saturday was supposed to be one of the precious two days of his week that he didn't have to see the other man.

"Oh, come on, you love anything I cook. Stop pretending to sulk." Francis placed the plate on the side table along with a cup of tea. He normally would have given him milk, but there was no milk at all in the house.

"I'm not pretending. I don't want to see you right now, so be a good lad and fuck off." Yes, the other man was probably older than him, but he didn't care. Of course he didn't care, why did he have to enforce that to himself?

"No, you are pretending. In reality, you are embarrassed, as you always are. And next time we meet up at a place with a bed, you will once again have sex with me, and you will once again be embarrassed." He bent over and moved the covers so he could kiss the top of the wet hair that stuck out. "Don't let your eggs get cold." Francis got his shirt and put it on, grabbing anything else that was his.

Arthur waited a few seconds before getting out of his bed and stopping the other by grabbing his shirt lightly. "Fine... Just... Whatever, stay. I don't care. Do whatever you want." He could never tell him that he actually preferred to have another person around him, especially after being alone for so many years.

Francis gave a small, almost sad smile. "Arthur, after being told to leave so many times, you can't expect me to outstay my welcome any longer than I already have." Of course, he didn't add that he had a date tonight with a guy named Arty.

With a strange feeling in his chest, Arthur let go and looked to the floor. "Sure, I mean, you're your own person. Plus I can't make you do anything." Just what was it that he was feeling? It couldn't possibly be regret... Could it?

Ah, _merde_, Arty could be stood up. "Well, if you want me to stay of course I will stay." He said, putting a comforting hand on Arthur's cheek. "Don't look so sad, _mon amour_."

"I'm not _sad_." He mumbled, not even pulling the hand away as he normally would. Now... Was that new emotion because of him staying? No... It couldn't possibly. "I'm just... Upset that you haven't given me my jacket back yet..." It was a horrible lie that even he could admit to. Arthur was just trying to push away the unwanted feelings towards the other blond.

"Alright, I will bring it to work on Monday." The Frenchman took a step forward, wrapping his arms around Arthur's body. It was a rare gem of a moment to see him like this, and he wasn't going to pass it up for a one-night fuck.

A second passed before he hesitantly put his own arms around Francis. He knew he was going to hate himself later for it, but right now it just seemed... Right. "You better." He muttered into the Frenchman's shoulder.

"Come on, we still have to eat." Francis said quietly, reluctantly letting his arms fall to his sides.

Putting his own arms down, the Briton then walked silently back to his room, unable to think of just what to say to break the oppressive silence. It was almost as if his entire viewpoint towards the other man had suddenly shifted, and he had no idea just how to act around him anymore.

They ate in relative silence. Even with his limited resources, Francis admitted to himself that the eggs were still really good. They could have been better of course, but so is the way of the world.

"Thanks for the food..." Arthur grumbled, mostly because he was confused with himself. "You didn't have to do it you know..."

"But you are already so skinny, I would not want you to whither away to nothing."

He looked over to the Parisian that was sitting fairly close to him on his bed. "Sure." It wasn't as if he was anorexic or bulimic, he was just lucky to be naturally skinny, even if it did come at the price of being a scrawny weakling.

Done with his food, Francis put his plate down on the side table. "If you are done, I will take your plate." He said, and Arthur passed him his plate. Feeling the moment was right, he leaned forward, capturing English lips in a passionate kiss.

Even though he was a bit surprised, Arthur still kissed back at the insisting lips on his own. Slowly, he opened his mouth a bit just to let his tongue poke up and lick lightly along the French lips. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he had also turned his body so that he could pull the two of them closer together. While his 'rational' side of his brain told him to stop and get out of there, the other side that was now in control told him to continue with the intense kiss.

After a minute, Francis pulled away and picked up the dishes. "Do you have anything planned for today?" He asked as he started walking to the kitchen.

He placed his fingers over his now shiny lips as he answered. "Not really." What had just happened?

"Do you want to do anything? I know a nice little coffee shop close to here." And it was far enough away from where he had planned to meet Arty, so there was little chance he would run into him there. He would probably be slapped by two people if that happened, because there was no doubt that Arthur would find it very off putting that he had planned to go on a date with another man the day after he had planned to make love to him.

"As long as they also have tea..." Even in his strange state of mind, Arthur couldn't say 'yes' outright to the other man. Unless he was asking if he found him annoying. Then he would be able to say it. Well, annoying if his mouth wasn't preoccupied with something else... A blush blossomed on his face as he hid it in his pillow. How dare him for being able to make him blush like a schoolgirl!

Giving a small laugh, Francis left the plates and went back to Arthur's bedroom. "Shall we go, then? Unless you want to do something else here, of course." Even if they just had a slightly heart-felt moment, he still felt he had to make jokes.

Pulling his face into a half-hearted scowl, Arthur just mumbled something incoherently as he got out of his bed and lightly pushed Francis out of his way to get out of his room. "You better be paying. Frog." He added, mostly to make himself feel better. All the strange things he was feeling in his chest were starting to make him a bit nervous.

"Well of course, since I am the male in this relationship, and I make much more money than you." Francis started walking to the door, grabbing his coat. He looked back to wonder what was taking Arthur so long, but couldn't see him.

* * *

The date in the next chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

Unbeknown to the Englishman, Francis was watching silently as he filled a vase with water and placed the deep, blood red roses in it. He couldn't help it really; they were beautiful and even though his emotions towards the person who gave them to him were more than muddled, he couldn't blame them for that. Before turning around, he picked up a petal that had fallen onto the counter and rubbed it between two fingers, memorizing the silkiness of it.

Standing by the wall, smiling, Francis watched Arthur gazing at the flowers. "And I thought you said you wanted them to die." He said, giving a quiet laugh. The Brit could be so cute sometimes.

Thinking for a second, Arthur's eyebrows furrowed together as he turned away from them and got his jacket a bit more violently then needed. "I wouldn't want them to suffer because of who gave them to me. They are the national flower of England after all." Slipping on his shoes, he waiting for Francis to step out of his apartment before locking it behind them.

"Ah yes, a tribute to England loving France, don't you think?" They started making their way out of the apartment, going down the elevator and stepping outside into the slightly chilly air. Francis started leading the way to the café.

"You wish..." The Briton mumbled. For some reason, he just couldn't put much heart behind his insults towards Francis. Arthur was feeling somewhat strange... Or maybe it was because he still felt bad about what happened with Alfred; even though he still didn't know what all the text messages he had been sending him meant. Whatever it was, it must have been bad because the last time he had phoned his friends house, he just got his obnoxious answering machine.

Walking into the quiet coffee house, Francis picked a table by the window and ordered a cappuccino for himself and some type of tea for Arthur. Seriously, if they opened up his brain, he was sure they would find a tea bag in there.

As they waited for their drinks to be ready, Arthur stared out the window with a light blush on his face from the cold and from the situation they were in. Instead of focusing on how the colour of Francis' jacket complimented his eyes or how he was staring at _him_, he started to think of ways he hated the blond. "Stop looking at me git." He muttered, looking out the window determinedly.

"Hm, what if I wasn't looking at you, and was instead looking at the attractive man behind you?" He asked, and laughed as Arthur quickly looked over his shoulder, seeing only an old lady. "Of course I was joking."

Extremely glad for the interruption when their drinks were brought to them, the Englishman just hid his bright blush the best he could behind his tea cup. "You better have been." Taking a small sip, a tiny smile was on his lips for a second before he put it back down. Tea always made him feel better.

"Getting jealous, are we?" Even he had no reason to be. Arthur was possibly the only person that Francis had had sex with three times in such a short period of time, and to think it was with a Brit! But he wouldn't let him know that.

"Why would I be jealous? It's not like we're an '_item_' or anything..." Hiding behind the collar of his jacket, Arthur made himself look busy by bringing the tea to his lips and closing his eyes. He didn't need to see the smug grin that was obviously on the other's face.

Well it was true, they weren't dating. Francis hadn't dated anyone since high school, and he didn't want to start now. Of course he was still all for the love of the world, but didn't much like the idea of sleeping with only that one person for the amount of time you still love them. It hadn't worked in high school, and considering how long Antonio's and Lovino's relationship lasted when they both slept with other people, it still didn't work. They had been together for a long time, and Francis attributed that to the fact they had sex with other people.

Daring to look up at the other man across the small table, Arthur was surprised to see his forehead creased in thought instead of looking smug. Putting his cup down, he coughed slightly. "Not like I want to or anything! And stop thinking so hard... You'll... Get wrinkles and then no one will want to look at you." How come Francis had such an affect on him? With Alfred, he would just lean over and punch him, or yell something at him and then he would just laugh it off. But Francis... It was impossible to think that he actually liked him.

"Aw, it's nice to know you care so much about me!" Francis exclaimed, clapping his hands lightly. He was determined to make today a date, where they learned more about each other, and didn't just jump in bed. Because really, all he knew about Arthur's past was that he lived in England until recently. "Anyway, how many lovers have you had in the past? I need to know how many people I have to hunt down and kill."

His forehead twitching slightly, he replied. "Well that will be no one because I'm not going to tell you. Just because you're open with your... _Relationships _doesn't mean that I am." Francis wasn't infatuated with people, he was infatuated with sex.

"Oh come on, I won't have a chance to be jealous if you don't tell me! I would have to settle for being jealous of Alfred!" Of course, Alfred had told him a while ago that he was bringing a friend to the city. A friend who he had a crush on for a while now, but was too afraid to tell.

"What a fat load of help that would be. He's not even talking to me at the moment so why would I care?" Other than the strange, distant-sounding text messages he continued to think about. In reality though, Arthur didn't want to say anything because there was nothing to say. Sure he had fooled around a bit as a lad, but never enough for a full relationship.

"He's not talking to you?" Francis asked, wondering what was going on. Alfred would never ignore Arthur, unless something was wrong. Perhaps something had happened that night the Englishman got drunk. That would explain why Alfred had sounded so... mellowed on the phone when he had asked him to pick up the drunk in his apartment.

Scoffing, he just took another sip of tea before answering. "Except for a few texts. I know I should be rejoicing right now that he finally took all my threats to heart but... I can't help but feel like I did something to cause this. All I remember is _that night_," He said cryptically, hoping Francis would know without him having to say it outright, "I went to his apartment, then I drank a bit too much... And woke up at home."

"May I see the texts?" He asked and took the phone that was handed to him. They started normal, asking how he was. Then they started to seem a little... forced. 'Did U get 2gether with Francis? Cause I think U would make a good couple.' 'I think I should get a bf. Spendin too much time with U lol.' 'I don't think U should get drunk around me again.' 'Not that I would take advantage of U or anything! U have Francis for that!' 'I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did.' 'I'm sorry, please don't hate me if U guys are actually dating.' 'Come on, text me back.' 'Oh, but if U phone me I'm not at home. Not saying that U can't phone me and leave a message or anything.' It went on, taking up almost all of the inbox in Arthur's phone. "Did you respond to any of these?"

"A few just to tell him he was being an immature git." Leaning forward, Arthur pried his cellphone out of Francis' hand and put it safely in his pocket. Hopefully he didn't see the ones about the two of them... "I phoned him and left a message but he still hasn't responded." How did the conversation turn to this? And more importantly, why was he even telling him?

Closing his eyes for a second, Francis shook his head. He hoped Alfred was alright. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?" He said under his breath. Of course it wasn't his secret to tell, so he couldn't say anything about his friend's crush.

Narrowing his eyes, the Brit grumbled. "You better not have said anything about me." Picking up his cup again, he was about to take a sip before noticing it was empty. Instead, he just poured more and had a sip of that. "You haven't touched your sick excuse for a beverage yet."

Wanting the conversation to go away from the texts, Francis smiled and sipped his hot coffee. "You're drinking flavoured water and think that my drink is horrible? _Sourcils_." He added, having wanted to use that insult for a while. It was painfully obvious how thick Arthur's eyebrows were.

"What does that mean?" He demanded, wanting to know just how hard he should hit him. That was, if he could get over the strange feeling that told him that was a bad thing.

"You should know it means eyebrows, shouldn't you? After all, you always knew when I was complementing you in bed, or saying how I was going to fuck you into the mattress so hard that-"

"Shut your bloody trap!" Arthur hissed, a bright blush erupting on his face and neck. "I don't need you to remind me, and I definitely don't want anyone else hearing about it!" His green eyes sparked with anger, but he took a deep breath to calm himself down somewhat. It wasn't very gentlemanly to murder someone in a coffee shop. "Just because I knew what you were saying before, doesn't mean I know every word of your blasted language."

Laughing, Francis finished his drink and threw the cup away and sat down again. "Where to after this? The movies, like a traditional date?" That would be nice. He started off a list in his head of all the movies playing, arranging them from sappiest love story down. Of course they would have to see a love story, if it was a date.

If it was possible, he just blushed more from the date comment. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and tried not to look flustered. "This isn't a date anyways. Didn't I already state the fact that we aren't together?"

"Just because we aren't together doesn't mean we can't go on a date. I have gone on many dates, but hardly any relationships." Of course, his dates almost always ended up in sex, which suited his purposes just fine normally.

"Whatever... But if you expect me to act like all the other air-brained twits you 'went out' with, then you are sorely mistaken. And it's not going to be a date if I have anything to say in the matter."

Standing up, Francis laughed. "So you say that we're going out now? You can be so confusing sometimes." Of course he loved that side of him as well. He supposed it was true, he actually loved Arthur.

Grumbling, Arthur got up from his chair. "It better be somewhere nice then." He didn't deny the fact that it was like a date again even as if thinking of it was somewhat embarrassing.

Rolling his eyes, Francis shook his head. "Nowhere cheap for you, my queen." Because that was just what Arthur was acting like. It was just a bonus that he was English and England had a queen.

"That's your highness to you frog." The bell on the door jingled as they left the humid store to walk to the nearest theatre. Despite the cold, Arthur kept his hand that was nearest to Francis out of his pocket. A light blush dusted his face as he clenched and unclenched his hand, trying to get the Frenchman's attention.

Noticing the waiting hand, Francis reached his own down, grabbing his fingers lightly. "You like public showings of affections, I see."

Blushing even more at Francis' comment, he just snarled lightly. "My hand's cold that's it. Wanker." Still in denial, Arthur squeezed his hand tighter.

Not wanting to have to let that hand go, Francis stayed silent, smiling. His Englishman could just be so cute at times.

* * *

Next chapter, we get to see what's going on with Alfred and Matthew!


	24. Chapter 24

Giving the fresh cup of coffee to Alfred, Matthew sat down beside him on the couch. "How long have you two known each other for?"

"About five years. Why?" Alfred asked, trying to pretend like everything was alright. He had given up texting Arthur, choosing instead to hide at his neighbours house all the time except for work.

"Just wondering. You both seem pretty close so I knew it couldn't have been just recently that you met. " Plus it seemed that Alfred was pretty upset since Wednesday night when he came over drunk. Something had definitely happened between the two of them and it didn't seem like Alfred was going to tell him any time soon.

Alfred nodded, sipping his warm drink thankfully. "I would ask you about you're friends but as far as I know you don't have any except for me." He gave a strained laugh while still trying to seem himself.

"Hey! I have friends! They just all happen to be in Canada..." Matthew pouted, half from being made fun of and half from the American trying to cover his anguish. "It's not my fault I'm too shy to talk to random people."

"Well I'm as good a friend as you need." Alfred laughed, liking the mindless chatter so he didn't have to say what was really wrong. Why had he gone and done that? What if Arthur remembered and that was why he was ignoring him.

"As much as your ego doesn't need it, I would have to somewhat agree. I'm glad I got to meet you." Maybe that would help make him feel better about whatever was bothering him with Arthur.

Laughing, Alfred put his arm around Matthew's shoulders lightly. "Thanks, glad I met you too." He had probably ruined his friendship with Arthur. It was painful for him to always be that close to him, but it was better than never seeing him at all.

Matthew blushed lightly as the arm on him pulled them closer together. "T-That's good." It was nice to be so close to him, but the fact that he was upset about Arthur ruined the feeling. It was hard for him to feel so giddy about being so close to the American when he felt so terrible. But, he couldn't help but have his heart feel light that it was him Alfred went to, not someone else.

Pulling away, Alfred stood up. "Well, I'm bored so what do you wanna do?" He asked, trying to get out of the awkward sentimental feeling that had been creeping up on him. In truth he wanted hamburgers but wasn't sure if the Canadian would want to make it.

"Doesn't really matter. I don't go out too often since I apparently don't have any friends except you." He gave Alfred a shy smile as he stood up as well. Picking up the coffee cup, he took it into the kitchen since it didn't look like he was going to have anymore. "I mean, if you want to go out that is. We could just stay here if you would rather."

"Go out? You want to go out now?" Al asked, laughing. This was actually nice, because it was making him think less of what had happened on Wednesday and more what could happen that didn't involve Arthur right now.

Looking over at Alfred with a innocent expression, he explained. "Well, we could just stay here. I don't want to make you..." Getting the alternate meaning to his own words, his face immediately turned bright red as he stuttered and waved his arms around. "Th-That's not what I meant! I m-meant we could just hang out somewhere else!" _'Unless... You do want to go out..._' Though at the time, it seemed somewhat cruel to say that he had been crushing on the optimistic blond for a while now.

Looking down, Alfred pretended to act sad. "You... don't want to date me?" Then he looked back up, laughing. "Just kidding. Probably sucks hearing something like that from a guy, hey?" He gave another laugh, leaning on a counter. He was quickly getting in a better mood.

Shrugging his shoulders, Matthew looked to the floor with his face still bright red. "Not... Not really..." If that wasn't a confession, then he could never bring himself to say anything more. The Canadian then looked up through his bangs, gauging Alfred's response.

Staying quiet for a second, Alfred looked up at him. "Not really? So what... you're gay too?" He asked lifting an eyebrow. Well, for a while he had been wondering if Matthew was perhaps pitching for the same team, but he hadn't actually believed it.

"Maybe..." He whispered, his voice going much higher than he would have cared to admit. The tension in the room was thick as Matthew waited for Alfred to answer. "I-Is that b-bad? Do y-you not want t-to hang out anymore?"

"How could I not want to hang out with you anymore when I'm gay, too? It's not like I can be homophobic." He rolled his eyes and laughed. Of course just because they were both gay never meant that they would get together or anything, he and Arthur being the perfect example.

Nodding, Matthew raised his head and put on a strained smile. "You're right. W-What do you want to do anyways?" His face was still bright red, but it didn't seem like Alfred would be finding out about his crush any time soon. He was ok with it though, since Alfred was still trying to get over his own denied love interest and he himself had kept his affection hidden for some time.

"Haha, we could go to a gay bar, since we're both gay apparently." And maybe that would help him forget even more about what had happened with Arthur. They could get drunk and it would all be good. Of course, going by what had happened last time, he kissed people when drunk.

"B-But we're both underage still! How would we g-get in?" That piece of information didn't fail to go through his muddled brain. Even the fact that he was seemingly going along with it made him feel even more flustered. Matthew knew it wasn't good to be this awkward around someone, but he couldn't help but feel happy that Alfred could make his heart flutter like this.

Going to get his wallet, Al pulled out his fake ID, saying he was twenty three. "Got it two years ago. Still works." He handed it to Matthew, looking at him. "You know, I could probably flirt with the bouncer to let me in, and you could probably use that ID, cause we look so much alike."

Handing it back quickly as if it burnt his hand, Matthew panicked. "But that's illegal! I don't want to get deported! I'd lose my job, my reputation, my apartment!" _My chance to get to know you better!_

Laughing, Alfred took back the ID. "Alright, I won't force you. I forgot that you could get deported! Maybe we should get married so you can become an American citizen easier." He gave another laugh at the blush creeping up Matthew's face.

"We c-can't get married here anyways! Plus, you wouldn't want to get married to me, I'm not interesting enough, or sexy, or beautiful, or even cute! You deserve someone like you! I mean, not that I wouldn't want to marry you! I m-mean..." Matthew hid his face behind his hands; his voice edging on hysterics.

Lifting an eyebrow, Alfred shook his head. "Ok, just for putting yourself down that much, you're buying me burgers." He went to the door, putting his jacket on. He hadn't realized how low Matthew's self-confidence was before. He couldn't see why, though.

"S-Sounds good..." Grabbing his own jacket and shoes, Matthew made sure not to forget his wallet as they left his apartment. Although he really couldn't call this a 'date', it was the closest his love struck heart would get.

.oOo.

Walking into the dark theatre, Francis immediately went for a seat in the back, where there was hardly anyone sitting. "I hope you will like the movie. It looks fantastic." He said, holding out the popcorn so it wouldn't fall.

"Why are we sitting back here? It's better in the front; every movie connoisseur knows that." Well, Arthur only said it because he wanted to sit up close so he could forget just who he was with, but it seemed pretty hopeless by now.

"Trust me, you want to sit in the back. Unless you want everyone to see what we are doing." Of course, Francis hardly ever actually watched the movie when he went on dates. Even if he wasn't on a date, if the movie was boring he would always make sure who he was sitting next to was hot.

Frowning for a second, it wasn't until he realized just what the Frenchman meant that his eyes went wide and his face heated up. "...Fine." He didn't want to admit that he was somewhat waiting for the pervert to do something but... Well, it was in his nature to try and turn every situation into an excuse to do something X-rated. "But only because I know you can't keep your hands to yourself and I don't want anyone to get upset when I hit you."

Nodding as he rolled his eyes, Francis sat down right when the movie started. He really hoped Arthur wasn't planning on paying attention to the movie, because he would be previously occupied for the most part.

Desperately paying attention to the beginning of the movie, Arthur tried not to let his eyes slip to the content Parisian who was sitting next to him. After all, he needed to watch the movie so he could get his money's worth. Well, Francis paid, but it didn't mean he still couldn't enjoy it.

First putting his hand on the arm rest, Francis was delighted to find that these were the kind you could lift up and out of your way. He did so, trying to make sure Arthur didn't notice, because he probably wouldn't like the fact that he was moving closer to undoing the Englishman's pants.

Jumping as the hand started to molest him like he expected, Arthur glared at Francis who was still pretending to watch the movie with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Just because I agreed to sitting in the back doesn't mean I condone this!" The Briton hissed, making sure to keep his voice down to not alert anyone.

"That is what your mouth is saying, but down here is telling a different story." Francis whispered, rubbing the growing erection through the denim. He started undoing the zipper, glad that the noise of the movie was too loud for anyone to hear it.

Letting out another hiss as a uncontrollable shiver travelled though his body, he continued to watch the movie despite the lust coiling in his abdomen. "...If... If you're going to do this, make sure to keep it bloody quick. I don't want anyone asking questions..."

"That isn't nice. Don't you want to enjoy it? And you should at least return the favour." Another reason Francis liked sitting in the back was because people generally didn't give them nasty looks for talking, which was annoying whenever they did.

Arthur's glare had less of an impact then he would have wanted it to be, since his face was beet red and his prick was out of his trousers. "You better not mean that. I was looking forward to not doing anything with you and you do _this_?" It was getting increasingly more difficult not to moan out, but some how the Briton managed it.

"Not doing anything with me? But Arthur, that would almost seem like we are on a real date." Francis said, rubbing the head of Arthur's cock with his thumb. His eyes were still at the movie, but his mind was with his hand.

"Well... Maybe... Maybe that's what I wanted! Did you ever think of that?" He grumbled quietly, biting down on his lip as Francis stroked his length hard. "No, you didn't. You're just so obsessed with yourself and what you want..."

Leaning over so he could rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, Francis laughed. "So if this is a real date, then we are dating?" He was getting painfully hard at this point, but wouldn't do it himself. It was either Arthur's hand, or the hot guy's hand that was sitting two row in front of them.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a second as the hand on his length tightened, Arthur mumbled a quick. "I don't know..." as he looked down at the ground. A few more seconds passed before he looked back at Francis' lap. "I guess... I could help you..."

"Oh? The princess is going to help someone?" Francis laughed but was glad he offered. He quickened his hand for a little bit, only to slow it down again.

Determined to make his glare count for something, Arthur just reached over and squeezed the bulge in the other's trousers; _hard_. "I'll only help if you behave yourself."

Groaning in arousal, Francis smiled. "Considering what we are doing, I wouldn't exactly consider this behaving." He whispered, happy when he felt his zipper loosen. He had a thought that Arthur would get it caught because of how hard he yanked on it.

It was slightly awkward to be doing something so intimate in a theatre, even if there were only a few other people in it except them. Plus, since Arthur was sitting to the right of Francis, he couldn't use his dominant hand which also made it harder for him to finish undoing the other's zipper to pull out his already rock-hard cock. "Seems like someone gets off on public acts of debauchery."

"Don't we all, to some degree?" Francis laughed at Arthur's failed attempts at undoing his fly. He was now struggling with the button. He decided to give him some help with his free hand.

Trying to glare again, he was stopped effectively when Francis' squeezed the head of his cock, making him take in a shuddering breath. Now that the other's length was free, Arthur was able to run his hand awkwardly up and down it, trying to give him as much pleasure or more than he was receiving.

Feeling the clumsy hand on his arousal, Francis leaned up so he could whisper into the ear by his face. "Should we continue this in the bathroom? It might be more comfortable." And they could get farther than just a hand job.


	25. Chapter 25

A bone jarring shiver travelled through Arthur's body. Before he knew what he was doing, he had shifted his prick so that he could put his trousers back on and stood up quickly. "Let's go before I change my mind and realize just how degrading this will be."

Laughing slightly, Francis did the same. It was a good thing there weren't any other people in the row, so they didn't have to do the awkward shuffling with hard ons. That would be worse than normal.

Waiting a second for Francis to catch up, Arthur had stormed off towards the bathroom as calmly as someone like him could with a raging erection and a brain set on 'snog and shag' mode. Now under the bright lights of the cinema's hallways, he didn't wait for the other blond to catch up.

Running slightly behind him, Francis made sure there were no people working outside, because it would be painfully obvious what they were going to do. They made their way to the bathroom, the Frenchman having memorized the route.

All but throwing the bathroom door open, Arthur barked out a quick ''Ello?' before deeming the place empty. Turning around, he saw Francis get in just a second after him and, his eyes dilated with lust, pushed himself against the Frenchman. Effectively pinning him to the wall, Arthur didn't waste any time undoing his pants again and attacking the other's mouth.

Also undoing Arthur's pants, Francis pushed back with his tongue. "We should move to a stall. In case someone comes in." Of course, Francis locked the door, but a worker could have keys to open it, and that would not be good.

"Fine." At this point, they could have sex against the door to keep anyone from coming in and he would be ok with it as long as he got off. Reluctantly pulling himself off Francis, Arthur grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the nearest stall. This was one of the most daring things he had done sober, but the Frenchman somehow managed to get him to act like this despite how much he knew he would hate them both for doing this.

Locking the door, they both continued getting undressed. Francis started kissing down his neck, sucking and licking alternatively. He turned Arthur around so he was facing the toilet, and started wondering how they were going to do this.

With his trousers and underwear off and his shirt unbuttoned but still on his small frame, Arthur looked behind him with a small frown as Francis was doing something. "What are you waiting for? I'm willing, aren't I?"

He went forward, smiling. Well, the position could work itself out. He had a thought back to their first time, when they were also forced to use saliva as lube. "You seem more eager than usual. Starting to fall in love with me?"

Blushing despite their predicament, Arthur just snapped back at him. "That's impossible you git. Now shag me so we can go on with pretending to actually care about each other." The only reason he was so upset was because, deep down -not that he would _ever_ admit it to himself- it was the truth.

Licking his fingers so they were coated in saliva, Francis quickly pushed two in. Since they had only had sex the night before, he wasn't as tight as he usually was, which was nice. It meant less time preparing him.

Groaning as the fingers were roughly thrust in his hole, Arthur wasn't about to complain. It was not an ideal place to be doing such an activity, but it was still good. After all, he knew the Frenchman knew what he was doing even if he didn't want to think of the reason why that was. Holding his weight against the top of the toilet, he pushed himself against those sinful fingers that were deep inside him already.

Twisting and curling his fingers, Francis tracked down Arthur's prostate. "Are you ready? Or should I add another finger for good measure?" The place that they were doing this must be turning the Frenchman on more than usual, because he could hardly wait to be inside him.

"Put your prick inside me now!" Arthur growled, letting out a very gentlemanly keening sound as his prostate was jabbed and stroked. He wasn't sure just how Francis was planning to do this, but he couldn't really care too much at this point.

Taking out his fingers, Francis bent down to his pants on the ground so he could get a condom. "Kneel on the toilet." It was a small stall, so that would have to do. At least this toilet had a cover on it, although that probably wasn't their original purpose.

Instead of doing as Francis said, Arthur just shook his head and turned around. "No. I want to... to do it face to face." It wasn't that he liked the snail eating git (he felt like he hadn't insulted him enough, and had to do so to save face) but that he figured it would be more comfortable and easier. And... Intimate? As intimate as having sex in a movie theatre's bathroom was.

Sighing, Francis nodded. He admitted this would make things more difficult, but he had been in much more... acrobatic situations than this. "Alright. Stand on the toilet seat so you can wrap your legs around my waist. Hold onto the top of the stall walls." It would be awkward for thrusting, but still doable.

Nodding, the Briton did as told: first grabbing onto the top of the stall walls after he got up high enough, then wrapping his legs loosely on Francis' hips so he was positioned above his length. "Are you going to put it in or do I need to do it myself?"

Holding Arthur up, Francis bit his lip. He made sure Arthur was still on him before taking a hand off his butt so he could position his cock at his entrance. "Lower slowly, if you can." He mumbled, hoping they could stay like this long enough. It probably looked pretty ridiculous, but from where he was standing it was incredibly sexy.

Shaking slightly as he tried to let the length slide in him slowly, he gave up once it was mostly in and let it slam in. "Blood hell..." He breathed, looking to the side with lust clouded eyes. Looking back to Francis' eyes, a strong urge over came him to take his lips in a bruising kiss, nipping at his lips. "Move."

Wondering just how he was going to do that, Francis rolled his hips. It wasn't thrusting into him, but he watched Arthur's eyes close and he let out a sound half way between a moan and a growl. "Lift yourself up, I will help." He said before rolling his hips again.

Needless to say, Arthur didn't boast an impressive upper body strength, so with both of their help, he was able to rise until only till the head of his erection was still inside before dropping down harder. The Englishman dug his heels into Francis' lower back as they continued the motion, creating a slow, but hard rhythm that was quickly picking up its pace.

Helping him move, Francis still rocked his hips at the same time as their thrusts. Even with the slow pace, it felt amazing. "Are you alright?" He asked, because it was a difficult position and there was pretty much no way he could touch Arthur's cock like this.

"I'm fine! Move more!" It was already putting strain on his shoulders and arms, but the friction was much too addicting to stop. Really though, this was the slowest sex they have had, and it felt much more intimate because of it.

Grunting, Francis tried moving faster. Because of the position, Arthur was clenching around his cock even more than normal. It was slightly less sensitive for him because of the condom, but it was still amazing.

Throwing his head to the side, Arthur let out a wanton moan as his prostate was all but rammed. Not quite realizing what he was doing, he turned back and, blushing, looked Francis in the eyes. His own were probably darkened, just as the Frenchman's blue ones were.

Tilting his head so he could match their lips, Francis kissed him. He wanted to help Arthur with his dripping cock, but was worried that if he took his hands off him that their erotic tower would fall.

Pushing against his mouth, Arthur quickly flicked his tongue out to join Francis'. His prick was bobbing in time with their hard thrusts which made him desperate to have it touched, but he knew it would be impossible. His arms were also getting tired but nothing could help him with that either.

Pulling away from the kiss, Francis leaned his head back slightly, panting. He could tell already that they would both be in pain tomorrow, but it was worth it. "I love you... Say it..." He said between breaths, his arms burning.

"I..." Arthur started, tightening his fingers holding him up as he moaned loudly, "I love you, you slimy, wine drinking, pompous git!" With that, he whined deep in his throat as he came over his stomach and chest.

It could have been the fact that the walls surrounding Francis' cock tightened when Arthur came, or it could have been the breathless confession that did it, but either way, the Frenchman was filling up the condom with his fluids and moaning Arthur's name. Quickly, he let the younger blond down so they were at the same height, so it was easier to kiss.

Wrapping his arms around Francis' neck, Arthur just barely remembered the cum on him before he pressed their bodies together. His arms were much too tired to hold themselves up, so he had to entwine his fingers with the Frenchman's hair to keep them up. His entire body seemed to just be his racing heartbeat as he came off his high.

Pulling away, Francis looked down at their bodies. He took off the condom, wrapping it up in toilet paper. "I'll be right back." He said, going out of the stall to drop it into the garbage. He came back to see Arthur wiping himself off with toilet paper.

Once Arthur was fairly clean, he threw the soiled toilet paper into the loo and flushed it, looking back to Francis as it was gone. He didn't really know what to say, so he just openly stared at him. It wasn't so much that it was creepy, as Arthur just wanted to get a good look at him since he was normally much too shy or proud to.

"Well, if we go back to the movie now I think we would be terribly confused, so shall we get dressed and go back to your place?" Francis asked, cleaning himself off as well. He wouldn't want cum on his clothes, because people always seemed to suspect correctly what it was.

Hesitating for a second, Arthur just nodded and then started to do up his shirt. He was desperately trying to forget just what he said, because he hadn't even thought about saying it before. It just... Came out. Even though he said it, it was still hard to accept.

They both got dressed, and Francis knew his arms were starting to feel like lead. They were so heavy after holding him up, he wasn't sure if he would be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Luckily tomorrow was Sunday.

Walking out of the bathroom slowly, Arthur was desperately trying to keep both his mind and blush under check. He should have expected a date with Francis to end up like this, but he would have never imagined being comfortable -or as comfortable as he was- doing it in a public bathroom.

* * *

We wanted to try writing a very different position... so this is what you get! Hope you all enjoyed it!


	26. Chapter 26

Alfred laid down on the couch once again. "So unless you want to watch a movie and stay up till midnight, telling ghost stories and having pillow fights, I'm going to sleep." He said, pulling up the blanket he had used for the last few nights.

"You do remember that your bed is just a wall away right? You don't even have to go outside..." Matthew mumbled quietly, secretly liking that Alfred had stayed over for the last few days. He felt bad that it was under whatever context involving Arthur (Who had seemed very nice when he met him, but when he told Alfred that he just laughed bitterly) so he wanted his friend to start getting back to his normal lifestyle.

"Your couch is better. My bed is usually covered in clothes and stuff that I have to move before going to sleep." He said, only half lying. He wasn't sure if he could take it if Arthur showed up in the middle of the night, which he was known to do if he was drunk, since he was finally starting to get over him. Also, he was having way too much fun with Matt.

Matthew just stood at the end of the couch, pulling the edge of his pyjama top awkwardly. "Aren't beds more comfortable? I bet even _with_ the clothes you would get a better night's sleep in your bed." Plus he didn't want to say anything, but he could hear his phone ring loudly through the walls, and could guess that it was Arthur trying to get in contact with him.

Talking over the ringing phone, Alfred nodded. "You're right, beds _are_ comfier. I guess I have been sleeping on your couch too long." He stood up and gave a big stretch, his back cracking slightly. "So I'll just have to sleep with you."

His eyes going wide, Matthew stuttered. "W-What are you talking about? Don't you w-want to sleep in your own bed? My b-bed is too small for two people..." Plus, he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep if he knew Al was right _there_.

"Why would I want to sleep in my own bed? Don't be silly." He started to Matthew's bedroom, taking his blanket with him. "And, I think that is plenty big enough for two." Of course, they would be a little squished, but who gave a flying fuck, anyways?

Following Alfred like a duckling into his room, Matthew continued to mumble. "I didn't even make it today. You probably have tons of messages on your phone too, so why not go over there, check them then go to sleep! I wouldn't want you to suffer. I talk in my sleep sometimes!" He continued to throw out reasons why he shouldn't say here tonight, but it seemed like Al wouldn't have any of it.

Turning around, Alfred took a step forward without thinking or knowing what he was about to do. It was just instincts that moved his body into trapping Matthew's against the door, and instincts that pressed their lips together for a second. "Shut up and come to bed." He whispered after pulling away. Damn, why had he done that? But whatever, if something more happened, he was fine with it if the Canadian was. He had helped so much these past few days, maybe Al had pushed his feelings for Arthur onto him.

Unsure just what to do, the Canadian just stood against the door, his fingers on his lips. That couldn't have just happened. There was no way in hell that it just happened. He had been waiting for how long now, and then he demands to sleep in the same bed _and_ kisses him? Matthew was close to tears from being surprised, joyful and a bit nervous. What if he just did it because he couldn't be with Arthur? "Y-You..." He started, unable to voice just how exhilarated he was.

"What?" Not letting himself think about how he had just possibly messed up another friendship, Alfred forced himself to stay positive. After all, Matt liked men too, so it wouldn't be completely horrible, right? It wasn't like he had said another man's name.

"I... I don't kn-know if I can sleep beside you..." Matthew said quietly, hoping that Al wouldn't get upset with him. After all, that show of affection had almost put him over the edge and he didn't know if he could control himself if he was to sleep next to him in his small bed.

Sitting heavily on the mattress, Alfred sighed. "Look, sorry for doing that. I won't do it again if you didn't like it, so just come to bed." Fuck, he wasn't going to run away like what he had done with Arthur. He had to face what he did and take the consequences. He wasn't sure if he could handle losing Matt too.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Matthew nibbled on his bottom lip. "That's n-not it... I c-can't sleep beside you because I d-don't know if I could k-keep myself from doing anything..." It took all of his confidence to admit that, but it was now or never to express his feelings toward the charismatic blond. He may have just had his heart broken, but Matthew hadn't been planning on telling him any time soon until he kissed him.

Trying to keep the excitement in him to a lower level, Alfred lifted an eyebrow. He shouldn't assume things, because they might be the wrong things to assume and it would hurt both of them. "Doing anything? I hope you don't mean like strangle me with a pillow or something." He gave a nervous laugh.

Shaking his head, Matthew couldn't stop fidgeting. "Not exactly..." A few seconds of awkward silence passed between them before he buried his bright red face in his hands. "I'm sorry! I'll go sleep on the couch! You p-probably don't even w-want to be here anymore anyways n-now that you know!"

Standing up quickly so he could catch the retreating back before he got out of the room, Alfred pulled him back. "Don't leave." He said, for once no humor in his voice. "So let me get this straight... and I want a direct answer... Do you like me?"

Matthew seemed to have lost complete control over his body when Al grabbed onto him. All he could feel was his stomach doing flips, his heart beating fiercely in his chest and ears and where the taller blond had touched him to stop him felt as if it was going to burn off. Opening his mouth a few times in an imitation of a fish, he just settled for nodding a few times.

"If you like me, why were you running away?" Alfred asked, sitting back on the bed. He was so relieved that he hadn't fucked up another friendship. And, this opened up some opportunities. Because he didn't want just a quick fuck. He wanted a relationship, wanted someone to look at him and no one else.

"Because... I d-didn't want to hurt you..." If he stayed and Alfred didn't like him, then it would have been hard on both of them. Matthew had turned around again to look at Al, but it was extremely awkward for him to look him in the eye.

"Hurt me? I'm a top, and can only guess that you're a bottom. How the hell would you be hurting me?" He was completely confused at this point. Was he like unnaturally tight and was afraid he was gonna squeeze his dick off or something?

His face was burning after Al finished. "W-What?" He managed to squeak out. "I didn't w-want to hurt you after... Y'know... I would hate m-myself if I made you upset..." Still, Alfred's casual mention about sex had him fidgeting even more with the hem of his sleeping teeshirt.

"So... you don't want to make me upset?" Alfred said, still slightly confused. Alright, they were both gay. And Matt liked him. And he had kissed Matt, so obviously he liked him too. So what was Matthew hesitating over?

"With Arthur... I didn't w-want to tell you... After that... I'm sorry!" Why did it have to be so hard to express his attraction to Alfred? "I like you too much to see you sad." There! He said it! Now he could go crawl into a hole and die happily.

Nodding, Alfred finally understood. Even if he had tried to hide the fact that something had happened between them, he must have still been too transparent. "Well, if you want to make me happy, you should come over here and give me another kiss."

Biting his lip more, Matthew slowly made his way to his bed where Alfred was sitting. In a moment of confidence, he sat down and before he could stop himself, brought their lips together slowly. Alfred's lips weren't like rose petals or silk or anything romantic, but the feeling of touching them again and being able to enjoy it was more than the Canadian had ever expected to happen.

Putting a hand on the small of his back, Alfred brought him closer so he could more easily reach his mouth. His tongue pressed against Matthew's lips, and slipped in when he shyly opened them.

Surprised but not at all put off, Matthew let his mouth be explored by the other's tongue for a moment before pressing his own timidly against it. He could taste what they had for dinner, as well as a slightly metallic taste that he attributed to being Alfred's taste. It wasn't until he let out a small moan, that he broke apart slowly and looked down at the bed, nibbling his lip as a nervous habit.

"So..." Alfred stood up, and just by the bed went on his knees. "Will you, Matthew, be my boyfriend?" He asked, once again in joking mode. Because he figured if they continued like they were, it would just end in sex, and knowing them they would never end up talking about anything, and would end up as friends with benefits.

Looking down at Alfred with a meek smile, he nodded his head. "I will." Already, this had turned out to be one of the best days of his life. Matthew was used to not getting what he wanted or being overlooked, but having Al actually want this as well made his heart swell.

Standing up, Alfred smiled. "May I kiss the bride?" He waited for a shy nod before pressing forward, kissing him as deeply, if not more so, than before. It was becoming obvious that Arthur wasn't the only one out there for him, because his heart was slowly being taken up with a flag with a maple leaf on it.

.oOo.

The next Monday, Arthur found himself sitting in his cubicle with a heat patch on both of his shoulders and his mind filled with too many questions and not enough answers. He was so out of it, when Kiku came by to ask him how his weekend was, he barely even realized that they were talking until he bowed and politely excused himself. Just how was he expecting to do any work when he could barely think past his own body?

Matthew picked up the phone for the third time before putting it down once again. Alfred was at work, so he was taking the opportunity to do something he had wanted to do for the past few days. But so far he hadn't gotten past the first three numbers in the phone number. He gave a sigh. "This is for Alfred." He said to himself, bringing up some courage. Picking up the phone once again, he typed in all the numbers and actually waited for it to ring.

Looking down at his pocket in confusion, Arthur fished his vibrating cellphone out and answered it. "'Ello?" He asked, confused. The Englishman didn't recognize the number, and hoped that it wasn't a telemarketer eating up his meagre minutes.

"Um, hi. I'm Matthew, Alfred's next door neighbour that gave you the tea." He said, a little too quickly and formally. The Canadian cringed at how he sounded, but figured it couldn't be helped. He was still a little shaken up from last night. Even if they had basically only kissed, it was still farther than he had ever thought he would get with Al.

It took him a second to remember who it was, but a rare smile graced his lips as the memory came to him. "That's right, the polite Canadian, if you don't mind. May I ask what was so urgent that you had to phone while I was working?" It was a nice break though, because he could forget about the fact that he had three chapters now that needed to have the French checked.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt you! I-I could call back some other time..." Matthew said, wondering if he would actually be able to call him back. He had to go to work soon, and whenever he was at home, so was Alfred. He had been lucky, being able to come in late today to call Arthur, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it again.

"It's ok, I just need to keep it short. Why are you phoning me? No offence but I didn't think we were that close." Now Arthur was more perplexed then curious. What would have happened for Alfred's neighbour to call him?

Sighing, Matthew steeled himself for what he was going to say. "Um, well you see, for the last few days, Alfred has been spending a lot of time with me. I think you two need to talk." That was it, he had done it. He had said what he needed to say, and hopefully they would work it out with him still being Alfred's boyfriend.

Frowning, Arthur leaned back in his chair to see if anyone was around after wincing in pain from his arms. Deeming it safe to stay on the phone, he asked. "Why would we need to talk? If anything he needs to explain to me why he had been ignoring my calls." It wasn't his fault that the idiotic blond lad was hiding from him.

Biting his lip, Matthew thought of what he could say to that. "Could-could you just talk to him? Just come to my apartment when you're finished work. Please?" He hoped that would work.

"I guess I could if you make sure Alfred behaves himself." Arthur sighed as he thought about it. Well, it would finally get them talking again since Alfred was being so immature. Though he couldn't help but try to think of reasons why he wasn't talking to him.

Nodding even if he couldn't be seen, Matthew agreed. "I'll try." Of course, at this point it was more a matter of Arthur behaving himself, but he wouldn't say anything about it.

"I'll see you then. Good day." It was only a matter of time before they finally talked. Plus it would help get his mind off... Him.


	27. Chapter 27

Alfred heard the door open. "Matt, who's here?" He called out, standing up from the couch.

"Promise me you won't get mad at me..." He mumbled after letting Arthur in. It wasn't worth it though as he noticed Alfred staring at the man in the door.

Eyes open wide, Alfred froze. What... What was Arthur doing here? What the hell was going on? Of course, he couldn't say any of that out loud, so he would just have to ask Matthew later. "Uh... Hey." He said lamely.

"Hello... Apparently your friend Matthew wanted us to talk." Arthur answered simply, taking off his shoes and jacket and walking into the living room. "Speaking of friends, is it possible to intrude and ask for some tea? God knows I'll need it."

Sitting down, Alfred watched Matthew go get the tea ready. "He wanted us to talk?" He asked, trying to make his voice light as it always was. Seeing Arthur was bringing back memories of when they had both been drunk... but not as many memories as he would have thought.

"You would know more than I would considering you've been ignoring me for the last few days." It wasn't so much the fact that he was not answering his phone, as much as it irked him that he didn't have enough manners to return the calls.

Biting his lip and glancing away, Alfred tried to think of a joke he could say, but none came to mind. "You never answered my texts, except that one calling me an idiot." He hadn't wanted their first conversation to be over the phone, or face to face. If it was just texting, he could control what he was saying and would have time to figure out responses. But like this, he might give away something.

Narrowing his eyes from Alfred's response, Arthur continued to press. "That was because you were sending me inappropriate messages that _he _happened to see." He wanted to chide him on acting like a child since he wouldn't meet his eyes, but obviously something drastic had happed. And he remembered nothing.

"And of course we wouldn't want to say _his_ name when you're sober." Alfred said under his breath, then smiled. "Sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to get in the way between you two." Of course it hurt, but he would just have to suck it up and pretend like nothing happened. Shouldn't be too hard. He had been doing it for a while already.

"We both know something happened, and if you're not about to tell me then I guess I have no reason-" He was cut off as Matthew came back into his living room with a pot of tea and a tea cup. "Thank you Matthew." He said kindly, changing his demeanour.

Needing to change the subject, Alfred reached out and grabbed Matthew's hand, pulling him forward into a kiss. "We're dating now." He said, smirking like an idiot as the Canadian blushed.

Looking at them with a raised eyebrow, Arthur said. "As excited as I am for you, I am still confused as to why you have been conveniently forgetting to phone me back. I know I came to your apartment that night, but I woke up at home."

Matthew on the other hand continued to blush and mumbled in Alfred's ear. "You need to tell him... S-So you will both feel better."

Glancing to Matthew to silently ask him to not say anything, Alfred looked back to Arthur. "Sorry, we were both pretty drunk. I ended up at Matt's place, so I called Francis to get you. Then me and him got together, so I haven't really been home." It was going to have to work as an explanation, cause it was the only one he was giving.

Narrowing his eyes at both of them, Arthur just sighed. "If that's the answer I'm going to keep getting then I guess it is the truth. Although, you could have put a bit of thought into at least telling me you hadn't gone and gotten yourself killed. Then what reason would I have to stay in his concrete hell hole?" A small smirk was tugging at his lips as he took a sip of the tea.

"I appreciate the tea Matthew. Is there anything I can do to help?" Well, he was still upset with Alfred, but there seemed to already be something weighing him down so he had no need to get upset with him.

"Oh no! It's ok! I just wanted you two to talk since... You know..."

"You knew I was alive! I sent texts." Alfred defended, glad Arthur seemed to be buying his story. He lifted his legs, putting them on the coffee table. It was a nice feeling hearing the older man cared for him, though.

Shrugging, Arthur placed the tea cup to his lips. "I'm not going to admit you're right because I'm still miffed with you." True it was more in the normal sense for them, but he couldn't help it. It also didn't help probably that he wasn't sure if Alfred was completely telling the truth. The interrogation would have to wait for when they were alone.

Pulling Matthew closer to him, Alfred smirked. "Well, shouldn't you be getting along to your lover boy?" He had to prove to Arthur that he didn't care if he and Francis were dating, and actually was glad that they were. It was true that he wanted the Brit to be happy, anyway.

Glaring over the top of his tea, Arthur shook his head. "We are nothing more than coworkers."

"So you would be fine if he went on a date with someone else?" He asked, laughing. All he really wanted to do was spend time with Matthew and forget about what had happened.

Arthur's mouth formed a thin line as Alfred laughed. "Since you obviously have nothing better to talk about I'm going to leave. Thank you for the tea Matthew." He was going to have to phone him again and ask for the truth, but it seemed to be something bad. If it wasn't then he would have said it without hesitation.

"See you, Old Man!" Alfred said, once again giving a laugh. Normally he would have gotten Arthur to stay, but right now he would rather he left. It just seemed too much for him to deal with right now, because he had no idea what his emotions were doing besides having a roller coaster ride.

Letting out a _hmph_, the Englishman finished his tea and got up. "I'm sorry to have intruded on your hospitality." He directed at Matthew as he put his jacket and shoes on.

Smiling weakly, the Canadian said, "It's not a problem. I'm sorry you felt like you had to leave so soon." It wasn't like anything else would happen if he stayed since Alfred seemed bent on not telling him. Although, he almost couldn't blame him because of the pain it brought to his heart.

Once the Brit was out of the room, the smile fell off of Alfred's face. Finally, he was gone. He took a deep breath and took off his glasses, massaging his forehead. "Matt..."

"Yeah?" Matthew practically whispered, not wanting to intrude on Alfred's suffering. He was extremely forced when the Briton was there, and now he was letting his feelings loose.

"Take responsibility." Alfred said, before pulling Matt towards him, crashing their lips together in a bruising kiss. So what if they had only been dating a day, he needed something to get his mind off of Arthur, and this was probably the best thing for it.

Pulling apart slightly, he blushed. "For what?" Not that he didn't mind the kiss, he just wanted to know what the reasoning was behind it. Alfred seemed like he was upset, and he didn't want him to feel like he had to make it up to him.

Biting the inside of his lip while thinking, Alfred answered, "Take responsibility for being so sexy. I mean seriously you walk around like that and I get all aroused." Also, since they were now dating, he felt a little guilty for being upset about another man, but he would never admit it.

"I don't think th-that's the problem..." Matthew mumbled, looking down at the couch so he wouldn't have to see Alfred's pained expression. Not only didn't he deserve the praise, but it was quite obvious that his heart was still in pain.

"If that's not the problem, then why am I already half hard?" He asked, putting Matthew's hand over his crotch.

Swallowing harshly, Matthew tried to move his hand but the one on his wrist held it tight. "I-I don't kn-know..." Once again, it could have been taken in two ways. That he didn't know why he was hard, or that he still didn't believe him. Both were partially right anyways.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing. If we continue, I won't just be _half_ hard." Alfred said, letting Matt's hand go but going forward to take him into a kiss once again. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to think about how Arthur was never going to see him as more than a friend, or how he was cheating on Matthew in his mind by thinking about Arthur.

This time the Canadian kissed back passionately, hoping that his own feelings wouldn't get in the way. He didn't want to do this when Alfred was obviously hurting, but if he wanted to...

Moving his hands down so he could get to Matthew's shirt, Alfred hesitated. Would that be going too far? They had just gotten together yesterday, so maybe Matt wanted to wait. Even if they had slept in the same bed last night, they hadn't done anything past kissing.

Unable to go on without saying anything, Matthew hesitantly pulled away again. "I..." He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "I know h-how you felt about him." He mumbled quietly, keeping his eyes locked with Alfred's.

Staying silent for a moment, Alfred took a breath. "Well, it doesn't matter how I feel about him now, does it? Because I'm with you, and he's with Francis." It was really his own fault, but he had just wanted to see Arthur happy. He really did. And now, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was happy, so Al's goal was accomplished.

"He still needs to know what happened before." True Matthew wanted to just keep kissing his new boyfriend, but he couldn't help but not want to see the two of them always be so awkward around each other. He could tell that Arthur would be very uptight about it, but once he saw that Alfred was ok with it, they could go back to their 'normal' friendship.

"And tell him what? That I've been in love with him for the past five years but never said anything, and then we both got drunk and started making out till he said Francis' name? How could I possibly tell him that?" Alfred pulled away, erection completely gone by this point. Why did Matt want him to talk to Arthur, anyway? Shouldn't he at least be a bit jealous since they were now dating?

He could tell that Alfred was getting upset, so Matthew hurriedly tried to fix it. "I'm sorry! I just don't want t-to see the two of you like this... I know y-you two were good friends before..." His eyes were starting to tear up, but he was determined not to show how upset he was because of Alfred's distress. He would probably find it weak.

Sighing, Alfred went back to Matt, sitting on his knees in front of him. "Look, I'm getting over him. Because of you. So please, just let this go, and me and Arthur will continue being friends." He hoped that would work, because Al just wanted to think about Matthew. Why did he have to be really good at reading what he was thinking?

Nodding slowly, he just took off his own glasses and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled again, looking down at Alfred's cerulean eyes. He had always imagined what it would be like for his crush to have never been returned, but he could never imagine just how hurt his heart would be to have it rejected in such a way.

"You don't have to say sorry, it's not your fault. I'm the one who should be sorry for asking you out when I still had feelings for another man." Alfred said, resting his head on his hands, which were on Matthew's knees. His own glasses were still on the table, so he was looking a little fuzzy, but he was still obviously beautiful.

Shaking his head even though he knew that Alfred couldn't see, he slipped down onto the ground and hugged Alfred. Resting his face on his shoulder, he didn't say anything; instead, basking in the comforting silence between them.

Closing his eyes, Alfred started to feel slightly awkward. First of all, he really wasn't used to having heart to heart conversations with anybody. Secondly, if a hug lasted this long, his brain immediately went to sex. "Uh, Matthew?"

"Hmm?" If this 'Matthew' was anything like the last, he knew what was going to happen. Nevertheless, he still looked up in Alfred's eyes which suddenly became a lot closer than he thought.

"So, you still have to take responsibility." Of course, they didn't need to do anything if Matt wanted to take it slowly. But it would be nice to take care of the problem that had returned recently.

The smaller blond blinked once before slowly moving his head toward Alfred's. Hesitating for a second, he continued moving until their lips lightly brushed. It didn't take long for him to tilt his head to the side and start to move their mouths together.

Putting one hand behind Matthew's neck, tilting his head back, Alfred took his open mouth. A small part of his brain that wasn't clouded with lust wondered if they would get any farther, but mostly he was just focused on tasting as much of him as he could.

Unsure just what to do with his hands, Matthew put them on Alfred's back. The tongue that was lightly licking his lips made him open his own so that it could run along the inside. Without realizing it, he gave a small moan as Alfred's tongue brushed the roof of his mouth.

His cock twitching at the sound, Alfred had to work at not pushing him down. Instead, he just placed one hand on Matthew's back, just under his shirt. Once again, he didn't want to go too far. He at least knew (or hoped) that Matt wouldn't say someone else's name, but if he went too fast, it could still ruin their relationship.

Feeling the hand on his back made the Canadian pull back only a few millimetres. He could still feel Alfred's moist breath on his lips as he mumbled. "I'm sorry... I just d-don't want to rush into this..." He tried to focus on his eyes, but being this close just made them cross uncomfortably.

Nodding, Alfred pulled back. Well, he had pretty much known that was going to happen. "Anyway," He said, standing up and going to the kitchen, "What do you want to have for supper? Cause, man, I am starving." He could cook some hamburgers, being the only thing he could make well, but figured Matthew could make anything better.

"Do you want to go out? Like... Y'know... On a date?" He asked quietly, still sitting on the floor where Alfred had left him. He felt somewhat bad when he saw the small bulge in Alfred's jeans, but it was too soon to do anything about it. After all, he wanted a relationship that meant something other than sex.

Thinking it over, Alfred nodded. "But I don't know any nice places, so you have to pick." He started to think about the starving kids in Africa to get his erection to go down, so there wouldn't be any awkward moments on their date.

"T-There's a small Greek restaurant not too far from here." Matthew suggested. "Though there's always a lot of garlic in it so maybe you don't want to..." All his life he had been cursed with having to rectify his choices so it was hard to stop.

"Greek is fine." Alfred said, helping Matthew stand up. He didn't actually mind Greek that much. Of course it wasn't as good as American food, but it still wasn't bad. "It will prove neither of us are vampires." He suggested with a laugh.

Nodding, he smiled. "Let's go then." Shyly, he reached out and grabbed Alfred's hand, squeezing lightly. He had been in other relationships before, but they never felt like this one -even if they were only going out for a day now. There was just something special about Alfred that made Matt's heart flutter.


	28. Chapter 28

Putting down the container of food, Francis lightly touched Arthur's shoulder. "Your food is here, _mon cher_." He said, leaning against him. It was nice to be back in the swing of things, flirting with Arthur every day and watching him blush.

Swatting the hand away, Arthur just grumbled. "Go give it to some one else frog; I'm not going to eat it." His emotions were still in turmoil, especially because he couldn't figure out if what he felt was hate or something more... Pleasant. Whatever the case was, he didn't want to be around the Frenchman until he realized just which it happened to be.

"But, by what you said over the weekend, it seemed like you would just _love_ to eat the food I made especially for you." He said, putting extra emphasis on the word love. For the past little while, he had been making small remarks, reminding Arthur of what he had said when they were in the bathroom.

"I already told you I'm not going to eat it so take it and go away." Without even turning around he held out the seven chapters he needed to get checked. "I trust that you will be able to edit these." Arthur knew that if he was to look at him, he wouldn't be able to think clearly and might act in a way that he didn't truly feel; whether it be good or not.

Taking the papers, Francis laughed. "What, getting me to do your work for you?" Of course he knew it was just to check the French, but it was still enjoyable poking fun at him. "But only if you repeat what you said on Saturday."

Narrowing his eyes at his computer, he responded in a clipped tone. "I said many things that day. You will have to be much more specific or we will be commentating the whole day." If it was what he thought it was, then there was no way he would repeat himself. Arthur wasn't even sure if he meant it the first time.

"You know, what you said when you were screaming in ecstasy, cumming all over my hand in the bathroom." Francis whispered in his ear so no one else would hear. Because for some reason, Arthur would no doubt get angry at him if someone heard.

Standing up quickly, he tried to not feel bad as he heard Francis let out an _oomph!_ as he was hit by his chair. "I don't know what you are talking about. There was no such moment, _frog_, and I sure as bloody hell didn't say anything to you of any importance." Walking off in a random direction, he just wanted to get away from Francis.

Shaking his head, Francis knelt over his desk, looking for a piece of paper. He found one that was lightly coloured pink from some document. Perfect. He started folding it in the shape that Kiku had taught him. In a minute he had made a heart that could open up like a card. Inside, he wrote 'You said "I love you, you slimy, wine drinking, pompous git!' and left the note in plain sight.

It wasn't long until Arthur's strange hybrid-anger had worn out as well as places to storm off to. He had to face it eventually, so he started to make his way back to his cubicle. What had really surprised him though was that a small, origami heart was sitting innocently on his desk. Glaring daggers at it, he hoped it would spontaneously combust but when it didn't, he picked it up. Seeing that it opened, he did so and promptly felt his heart beat increase. Picking it up as if it were diseased, the Englishman stormed to Francis' door and knocked on it viciously.

"Oui? Have you come to repeat it?" Francis asked, going to his door and smiling.

Staring as viciously at the Frenchman as he was at the heart, he just held it out. "Take it before I yell at you." He tone was acidic, but he couldn't help it lest he show _compassion_ to him.

"Oh, would you like a rose instead?" He asked, taking the heart back. Those were the only two origami things he could make, of course. Well, he had asked Kiku to show him how to make an origami penis, but he had just blushed and started mumbling.

Slightly surprised that Francis let him give it back, his eyes betrayed the truth for a second before reverting back to a glare. "No I don't. What I want is for you to let me be." Actually, he wanted to figure out what the weird feeling in his chest was, but he wasn't about to tell the Frenchman that.

Smirking, Francis went back into his office. Well, if he didn't want origami, he would just have to get him something else. All girls loved chocolate, and Arthur was acting like a PMSing girl, wasn't he? Of course that was just his personality, not a hormonal imbalance.

Arthur's lips fell into a pout for a second before sneering. "That's what I thought. Good day to you _frog_ and you better have at least half of the chapters proof read by the end of the day."

"Only if I get an award." He managed to get out before Arthur had left. An award would be nice. He deserved one, anyway. He hadn't gone on a date with anyone since his date with the Brit. Meaning, he hadn't had sex since Saturday!

Going back to his desk, Arthur just put his head in his hands as he sat down. What was he thinking? There was no way he could hold any feelings except those on the negative side of emotions for the slimy Frenchman. He was too prim and proper to have even been considered cohorts with the Parisian in the first place! To top things off, Alfred was still being strange despite nothing having happened so he was unable to go and talk to him. Matthew was out of the question since they had only met twice before and he was now dating the ungrateful American whom he would tell everything. The polite Japanese man was also out because they were nothing more than coworkers that would share a few words before getting back to work. Why did the world have to hate him so much!

.oOo.

"Yes, and on the card, you can just put '_Pour toi_' and that will be all. Yes, that is the right address. For Arthur Kirkland." Francis put down the phone and smiled. He truly loved his job. He hardly ever had to do any actual work.

Sitting at his desk as he had for the last few months, Arthur was making a few last-minute changes to the document before looking up with a sigh. Sure English was his passion, but having to deal with countless Americans who would continually butcher the language was starting to get on his nerves.

Nearly twenty uneventful minutes later, a small knock on the wall of his cubicle brought Arthur's attention the brunet that was standing there. "Oh, hello Toris. What can I do to help?" There was a small pit of fear that he was sending a message from Ivan, so he tried to kill it out by smiling up at him.

"Well, there is... something here for you." Toris said, giving him the large bouquet of dark red roses. He had felt eyes on him as he had carried them from the entrance all the way to here, and had a sinking suspicion they were violet.

His smile turned into a frown as Arthur saw the bouquet. If they were from who he thought... "Thank you." He said through his teeth so that the man would leave. Putting it on his desk, he poked through them until he saw a small card. '_Pour toi'_ was written on it in cursive writing.

"Francis." Arthur muttered under his breath as his cheeks turned a dangerous shade of red. Ripping it out of the flowers, he stormed over to his office and knocked on his door politely despite his rage. He didn't want to give himself away after all.

Ah, right on time. The delivery service was really specific. Francis opened the door, smiling. "Why Arthur, whatever for are you doing here? Need me to do more of your work for you?" He said, voice light.

"What is the meaning of _this_?" He asked quietly, almost shaking. Though whether it was from anger or embarrassment was anyone's guess. Holding the card up, he then pointed toward his desk. "What the bloody hell were you thinking! I'll tell you what, you _weren't _thinking, that's why!"

Unable to stop, Francis' grin turned devilish. "Well, you had seemed to like the flowers I got you on Friday, since you so lovingly put them in water and caressed them, so I thought you might have a rose fetish."

"J-Just because I like them doesn't mean I do in a sexual manner! And I don't like the fact that they came from you!" Arthur tried not to stutter, but it obviously happened despite his attempt.

"You admitted you like them, so why are you angry?" Francis asked, stepping into his office and waiting for Arthur to follow. This really was getting to be his favourite pass time, which was strange because it used to be sex.

Frowning at his question, Arthur continued. "Be... Because they're from you!" That was the best explanation he had, and he hoped Francis wouldn't want any others. In his other relationships in England, he would have been happy to receive flowers, but this wasn't a relationship since he was French.

"So if we were in an accident, and I died and you needed a heart, you wouldn't take mine just because it was from me?" Francis raised an manicured eyebrow. Arthur walked forward, obviously not even noticing as he did so.

"That's different! Then you would be dead and you wouldn't be constantly confusing me!" Arthur wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore, or even doing as he walked closer to Francis. "At least then going to work wouldn't be like playing Russian Roulette!"

Quickly hugging Arthur, Francis cooed. "Aw you would want my heart as yours! That is so sweet, _mon petit ami_!" He said, letting him go before he was smacked. He closed the door so no one could interrupt.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur spoke up. "That wasn't a fair question. If you were dead then I'd gladly take any part of your body if it meant I were to live." With what he was saying though, it seemed to only further strengthen Francis' belief and ruin what he tried to mean by it.

"So if you needed a certain body part of mine that seems to make you really... _excited_... then you would be fine taking it? Since you obviously couldn't live without it." Word twisting was possibly one of the most entertaining things with Arthur.

Getting fed up with Francis and his own thoughts, Arthur wasn't sure what came over him before he found himself grabbing onto the other's tie and pulling their mouths together forcefully. Nipping at his lips and thrusting his tongue between them, he continued for a few more seconds before pulling back with a glare. "Stop making me so bloody confused!" Letting go, he then turned around and stormed out of his office after opening the door.

Licking his lips, Francis laughed. Arthur could still surprise him.

Desperate to not think about what he just did, the Englishman just wiped his lips off on his shoulder before going to Mr. Braginski's office. Knocking on the door lightly, he waited for him to invite him in before asking. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I have had the most terrible migraine today, and I was hoping to receive the rest of the day off. I will make it up sometime as overtime. With no extra pay." He explained, lying through his teeth.

Making sure Arthur couldn't see Toris under his desk, Ivan smiled up at the door. "Yes, that would be -mmm- alright. Of course." The large Russian twined his fingers in longish brown hair, regulating the pace.

"Very sorry for the inconvenience, thank you Mr. Braginski." With that, Arthur was getting his things together all while staring evilly at the beautiful roses. He had half a mind to throw them away, but with how beautiful they were... Maybe he would just leave them on his desk. That would work. And if they were gone in the morning because someone threw them out, then it was just tough luck.

Making his way out of the building, he was only slowed down by sharing pleasantries with Tino for a moment before calling a cab. It was all a lie, but he couldn't stay at work for any longer. Not after the rash action with Francis.

The routine taxi ride held no surprises as he got to his apartment building, paid the driver and went up to his cozy home. Living there for a few months had given him time to start making it more like his house in England had been. Speaking of England, it would be a pleasant time to drown himself in tea and forget about everything that was plaguing him. Even without a migraine it was nice to be soothed. Maybe he would even have a bath. Let all his stress go.


	29. Chapter 29

Arthur's stress level returned to normal after another week of work. Not only where the flowers still there after all this time, but he had remembered his deal with Mr. Braginski. Now he had to work overtime and hopefully quickly so that he could get home faster. After all, he left with about two hours to go.

Getting ready to leave, Francis saw that Arthur was still working. He went over there, just for fun really. "Why did you leave last Monday? I was so lonely without you." He said, putting his arms around an English neck.

Hitting the arms off him, Arthur kept his attention on the documents. He wouldn't want him to think he actually affected him. "None of your business. If you really want to know, go and talk to our boss." He wasn't quite sure if he would tell him, but that just made it better.

"But whenever I ask him to tell me something, I have to give him a bl... do him a favour." Francis had been learning to not mention his loose sex life in front of the blond anymore. Even if he would never admit it, it always made him mad.

"Fine, I left because I had a migraine." Hopefully it would get him out of his hair so he could finish the work quicker. It was already stressful enough having to do so much, he didn't need Francis making it worse.

Pulling up a chair from the next cubicle, Francis sat down next to him. "Well, that is no good. Which head was hurting?" He asked with a laugh. If only Arthur had a small sense of humour, he would never get angry.

Glaring over at him because he had sat down, Arthur just harrumphed and kept working. "If I had a vagina would you be so bent on destroying my life?" Maybe then he could have lived peacefully with no visions of Parisians going through his mind.

Laughing, Francis was amazed Arthur had actually said that. "But if you had a vagina, what would get hard when you thought of me?" He asked, going forward and feeling Arthur's cock through his jeans.

Standing up quickly, he turned around and stared viciously down at the grinning man. "I don't know what has entitled you to think that you can just come up and molest me like that, but it isn't appreciated!" Arthur's eyebrows had furrowed and his hands were clenched by his side. Why couldn't he just walk away from him? That was what he would normally do.

"Well, probably the fact that we have now had sex four times, and three of those you were sober." So what if Arthur didn't remember the first time, they had still had sex. So that gave him the right to molest him, didn't it?

Unsure what to say, he just yelled out the first thing he thought of. "Well that's completely different! I don't deserve this kind of bullocks anyways!" Arthur wasn't about to say how the only reason he let him have sex was because there was something strange making him do it. He would just think that the Briton was mad.

"It isn't different! If I can touch you then, why can't I touch you now?" Francis said, standing up as well. He wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he didn't want this conversation to end with Arthur storming out.

"Because we are in a public place that just so happens to be both of our employment! Can you hurry up and leave so that I can catch up on my work? I would like to be out of here in less than two hours if possible!"

"Well fine. If you won't let me touch you, I will just have to find someone else that will." Francis said, turning around and leaving. Why did he bother himself with someone so annoying, anyway, when he could have any guy he wanted as long as they had an open mind.

Letting out a growl of frustration, Arthur just sat on his chair and slammed his fists on his desk. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Just because they... Shagged a few times didn't mean anything besides that! And it definitely didn't mean he was allowed free reign with his body!

Still angry, he grabbed the document again and started to edit it, barely paying attention. His mind was just too riled up with thoughts about a particular Frenchman who would look splendid in a coffin. He survived about another twenty minutes of that before giving up. Arthur just couldn't take it. It was damn near impossible to concentrate and he wasn't going to get any quality work done now.

Packing up his stuff as the cloud of anger hovered over him, Arthur half made sure everything was locked up before taking the stairs down. If he was boxed up in the elevator, he didn't know what he would do. Right now he just had to move. Preferably to hit a certain someone, but move nonetheless.

It didn't take long for him to get into a cab. Just as he was about to bark out his address, he stopped. If Francis wanted to find him, he would look there first. Giving out Alfred's address instead, he sat back in the taxi with his arms crossed and his face twisted with rage.

.oOo.

Alfred lay in Matthew's bed, pulling him down so their lips met. He was really getting over Arthur, which was amazing. They had gone a little farther, but still hadn't gone all the way. "Mm, Matt, I want you."

Wrapping his legs around Alfred, he groaned up at him, his violet eyes shimmering. "I want you to have me." Matthew had already mostly gotten over his embarrassment that he was finally with his long time crush, and was starting to be able to voice himself. And now, he definitely knew what he wanted to voice himself about.

Taking in a small breath, Alfred pushed back slightly. "Really?" He asked, hopeful. So what if he sounded like a horn dog, he wanted to make love to him. He was just so cute, especially at times like this.

Bringing their mouths back together in a bruising kiss, Matthew answered him with his tongue, lips and teeth. He was definitely more than ready to move on now, since it wasn't going to be his first time. Not that he didn't want it to be special, but he didn't feel as bad wanting it because of it. "Al... Take me."

It was about this time that Arthur had arrived at the apartment building. He was still livid, and was extremely glad that once upon a time Alfred had at least given him a key to get into the main building. It would have been better to have both keys, but at the time he didn't think about it.

Taking the stairs two at a time despite his shorter stature, Arthur continued to grumble to himself. Just what did Francis mean 'go find someone that would let him'? Who would voluntarily give up their body to be molested by some pervert? Sure he was good in the sack, but that didn't have anything to do with that!

Once he was at Alfred's door, he started to pound on it with his fists. "Let me in you giant good-for-nothing slob!"

Smiling, Alfred kissed him again. "Ok." He said, starting to take off Matthew's shirt. He kissed down his neck, and was about to continue when... there was pounding at his door beside this apartment. He felt the Canadian stiffen and start to get up. "Just ignore it."

"But... He's knows that-" And as if on cue when Alfred started to kiss his chest, the ferocious pounding started on his door. Matthew could faintly hear him yelling something to the effect of 'open your bloody door!' but he couldn't be sure. "We should answer it."

"He'll leave eventually." Alfred said, trying to not pay attention to the constant noise. He _would_ stop, wouldn't he? As the pounding continued, Al couldn't take it anymore. With a groan, he stood up. "Fine, fine."

Crawling out from Alfred, Matthew made sure that he put his shirt on the right way and that he didn't look too dishevelled before opening his door. "Hello Arthur how... Are you?" He finished pathetically as he pushed past him.

"Where the hell are you, you barbaric git!"

Rolling his eyes, Alfred got out of the room. "I'm here, what do you want?" He asked, standing by Matthew. Yes, he still liked Arthur, but he was no longer hurting. But it looked like Arthur was pissed about something.

Pointing an accusing finger at him, he yelled. "It's all your fault!" Who cared that it was Francis always groping him, it was Alfred that brought it all to happen.

Alfred gave a drawn out sigh. He grabbed the back of Matthew's shirt, pulling him down to sit beside him on the couch. "This might take a while."

Standing across from them, the Englishman continued to yell. "How dare you put the idea into my head that Francis and I would be good together? He's a manipulative arse and he can't seem to understand the concept of personal boundaries or sexual abuse." Arthur felt somewhat bad that Matthew had to hear this, but he was much too angry to stop.

Watching as the Brit started walking back and forth, Alfred pulled Matt into a kiss whenever he turned away. Of course, whenever he turned to look at them, they had to stop and look like they were paying attention.

Arthur just continued to spew, saying anything and everything that came to his mind about just how slimy and lecherous the frog was. "Are you even listening to me!" He snapped, seeing them sitting close with vacant expressions on their faces. Well, Matthew seemed like he cared but Arthur didn't know him well enough to say anything to him.

"Of course. The petulant frog, how dare he." Alfred said in a flat tone. In truth, he didn't want to hear about it, he just wanted Matthew, especially after he had said they could go all the way. Of course, the old man had to ruin it. He turned around again, so the American kissed Matt again.

Pushing away regrettably as the Briton turned back to them, Matthew asked quietly. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened? That _frog_ happened, that's what! He just kept touching me and I had to keep telling the wanker to keep his hands to himself! I mean, I can't be seen at work getting molested by someone like him! Plus I keep thinking about him, which is probably because he's invaded my brain with pixies to spy on my life to try and get me to like him and-" Arthur continued to rant, not ready to stop yet.

Alfred figured it was just easier to listen to it all. Arthur needed to say it all to someone, and this way nothing drastic would happen, so it would all go back to normal after. He would leave eventually, and hopefully then Matthew would still be in the mood.

Coughing lightly to break Arthur's tirade, Matthew hesitantly offered. "If you want my advice... I'd say you should go wherever Francis is and tell him you like him." He would say love, considering the amount he had been ranting about he Frenchman, but that might just set him off more.

Eyes wide open, Alfred looked at Matthew. "What the hell did you do that for?" He whispered, so that Arthur wouldn't hear it. Damn, the rule with the Englishman was that you never said what he didn't want to admit himself! Now he would go do something, and it would mess things up, and he would be depressed.

Stopping mid-pace, Arthur looked back to Matthew with wide eyes. "Tell... Him..." He muttered, his rage melting off his body. It made sense, dammit! That was why he always thought about the stupid Parisian, and couldn't forget about the three times he remembered having sex with him. No... Was what he said in the bathroom actually the truth?

"If you go now you'll probably find him." Matthew added, nodding towards the door.

It only took a second after that for Arthur to put on his coat and shoes. "I'm only going because I remembered something terribly important that has nothing to do with what you said." And with that, he was out the door, running down the hall to outside. How could he have been so _stupid_!

Hitting his forehead with his palm, Alfred sat back in the couch. "Why did you do that? Seriously, now he will be depressed, and probably get drunk, and if I heard him correctly probably barge in on Francis' date, and then be depressed about that." He gave a sigh, hoping it wouldn't affect him too much.

"Not quite. That wasn't the type of thing someone like him would do if they were depressed. What happened was now he knows what he wants. Just as I do." Grinning, Matthew pulled them together for a quick, passion filled kiss.

Pulling back, Alfred looked at the Canadian. "Wait... you said that... so he would leave?" He waited for Matthew to give a slight nod. Smiling, he kissed him again. "I think I love you." He said in amazement.


	30. Chapter 30

Arthur had made his way outside and flagged down a taxi and after hurriedly muttering Francis' address -So what if he memorized it? It only helped to prove _it_ further- he found himself waiting impatiently to find him. Hopefully the Parisian would be at home so he could reach him, because God knew that if the Englishman had to hold onto this piece of knowledge he was sure to self-destruct.

It felt like it took a million hours yet at the same time only a few minutes. Countless situations were running through Arthur's mind; most of which having Francis laugh at him and walk away. Still, he needed to get it out. Hopefully it would explain his actions... Although now that he looked back on them, it was quite... Repulsive. Why did he have to be so blind to his own emotions?

The cab pulled into the wide driveway, interrupting his thoughts. Giving the driver a bit extra he made his way out of the vehicle, muttering a quick "Keep the change" as he was already running up to the door. His body hot with adrenaline, he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously for it to open. Arthur tugged at the edge of his jacket as he bit his bottom lip. He was finally going to say it, and mean it.

Drying his hair, Francis walked to the door. Who could it be? He wasn't expecting anyone. He opened it, finding an excited Englishman standing there. "Arthur? What do you want?" He might have sounded harsh, but he was confused. Was he here to hit him or something?

Seeing Francis suddenly made everything much harder. How was Arthur supposed to just say something like that after all the arguing they had done? Especially after their fight at work. Bloody hell! "Just... Let me in." Casting his eyes at the pavement, he ignored the sounds of the cab pulling out of the driveway as he waited for him to move.

Shrugging and stepping aside, Francis let Arthur in. After what had happened at work, he hadn't expected to see him for a while. Of course, sometimes the blond went past any reasonable expectations.

It didn't take long for Arthur to take off his coat and shoes, leaving them to the side of the hall before making his way to where he knew the living room was. Even after only being here twice, he remembered his way around well enough. Without seeing if Francis had followed him, Arthur sat on the luxurious couch and put his head in his hands. It seemed so easy before, but how could it be?

"Did someone die?" Francis asked, sitting beside him. That would explain why he looked the way he did... and maybe he needed comforting. But why didn't he go to Alfred if he needed to be comforted? They had made up, after all... unless it was Alfred that was dead!

His head bowed over, he just ran his hands through his short hair before pulling at it. Why did he have to have this happen to him? Arthur could have fallen for someone more _respectable_ but fate was too cruel a mistress to allow that. Ignoring Francis' question, the Englishman stood up quickly and started to pace as he had in Alfred's apartment. "I... have s-something to say." What was with the stutter?

Eyebrow raised, Francis waited for the explanation. It no longer seemed like someone was dead, so his mind went to other possibilities. Maybe he had to go back to England? That might make sense, even if it wouldn't be good.

Arthur looked shyly at Francis who was lounging on his couch, looking somewhat perturbed. Opening his mouth, he was about to say it but then closed it and continued to pace slowly. "I have been thinking about it for a while, even if I didn't realize it..." The entire time his eyes were trained on the hardwood flooring instead of on the man he was attempting to talk to.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Francis gave a loud sigh. "Get on with it, will you? You're wasting my time when I could be doing something else." He had planned on acting out his earlier threat, by going to the bar and picking someone up.

Stopping in front of him, Arthur just looked at his annoyed gaze and paused. Floundering for a second, he then put his face in his hands again. "I can't... I can't say it..."

"Just say it! _Merde_!" He had no idea what was making him so worked up. Normally he just made jokes and went with it, but perhaps because Arthur had finally said 'I love you', even if it was in those circumstances, and then he just refused it.

Standing his ground, Arthur just clenched his hands by his side and started to shake lightly. "I like you! It's all your fault!" Finally! Now Francis could kick him out and he would suck it up like a man and forget about him.

Waiting for a moment for him to continue, Francis just sat there, staring at him. "You admit you like me? Are you drunk?" Because when he was drunk, he would usually say anything to get either more alcohol or get laid.

"I wish I was... Bloody hell!" Arthur exclaimed. Taking the few steps to Francis, he grabbed the sides of his face roughly and brought their lips together in an emotion filled kiss. Breaking apart after a second, he kept their faces close. "Does it taste like I have? This is how I feel you wanker."

Eyes going wide, Francis was amazed. Wow, it really didn't taste like he had had anything to drink! What had gotten into him to be this forward about his feelings? He never was. "Oh. Want to have sex? I mean, make love." He corrected, actually being able to say that now. It was strange, he had received tons of confessions, but with this one, he wasn't sure what to do.

Arthur pulled away and threw his arms in the air as he turned away. "See! That's why it was so difficult you frog! I can't understand how in the world I fell for such a lecherous person like you but it happened!"

"It seems you just couldn't resist the sex appeal that is _moi_." Francis said, throwing back his hair and smiling. It was amazing how a few words from the blond could change his mood so much.

"Sex appeal my arse. It's more likely that you use some sort of pheromone perfume. Argh!" Yelling out again, Arthur still couldn't believe that he finally admitted his feelings. He was pretty sure that's what it was, but he couldn't help but wish it wasn't. "So do you want me to leave now, now that your little game is done?"

Standing up and grabbing Arthur by the arm, Francis pulled him into a long passionate kiss. He pushed their bodies flush together, two thin layers of clothes being the only thing keeping them apart. "I love you, too."

"This doesn't change anything... I still hate you and won't accept anything at work... But... I don't completely hate you..." Arthur was so flustered that he didn't even realize that he essentially negated his own argument. He still couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Francis, so he just stared at his neck.

"Not even the food I slave over, and you seem to love almost as much as you love me?" Francis asked, bending his head so he could nip lightly at where he had first left that hickey, so long ago. Arthur was definitely better than anyone he could pick up at a bar... even if he had picked him up at a bar to start with.

Shivering a bit from the nip, Arthur just mumbled. "I'm not admitting to anything else. You're still a slimy git to me." His arms were hanging uselessly by his side as he soaked in the realization. Francis wasn't about to kick him out, or laugh at him for falling into his trap, so maybe it was true. Maybe... Maybe they did like each other.

Slowly moving to the nearest room with a bed, Francis tried not to let Arthur notice what he was doing. He would no doubt try to fight it, but if they had sex in the passion of the moment, then he probably wouldn't be mad... Maybe.

Arthur noticed where Francis was leading them and quickly pulled apart. "I'm not having sex with you now! I just told you 'that'!" It was more because he was nervous that he wouldn't take him seriously after it, because he knew he was much too willing right now. "If you want that, I want something in return."

"In return? Like what? I already gave you two bouquets of roses, and I cook for you every day! Also, even though I have been serious, you have only _just _told me you like me, and not even that you love me!" So what if he wanted sex, he deserved it! He hadn't had sex for a while, dammit!

"I want..." Honestly, Arthur was going to demand to go on a proper date with him first, but then he stopped. The only thing stopping them was his own mind set, and other than that, he wanted it as well. "I want to top."

Francis looked him in the eyes. Fuck, he was serious. At this point, why would he still be thinking things like that? Sure, he had bottomed for Ivan a few times, but that was different. But... what if them always having the same positions ruined their potential relationship? "...Fine." He said quietly, almost whispering.

Extremely surprised with his answer, Arthur's eyebrows jumped to his hairline. Did he actually agree? "So... You're ok with that?" He had mostly said it because he wanted to stay the same as he used to, not really because he wanted to. Now that he had permission though... The idea sounded much more tempting. Plus it was somewhat strange to see Francis being so subdued, but it didn't curb his appeal at all.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get started before I change my mind." Francis said, going to the bedroom. He just wanted this to be over with. Arthur had probably never even been top before, so he wasn't going to be any good.

Following after Francis, Arthur still couldn't believe it. After all this time wondering what it would be like to enter the Frenchman, he was finally given the chance. He was well prepared to make it last, since this was probably the only time he would ever have the opportunity. Once he stopped by the bed, Arthur waited for him to turn around before kissing him hard. He was determined to prove that this was going to be worth the decision.

Letting the Brit take control of the kiss, Francis sat on the bed. If he was going to be the bottom, then Arthur was going to be doing most of the work. He pulled back slightly. "Lube is in the drawer. And use a condom."

Arthur just nodded and brought them back into a kiss. It was a bit disappointing that he wasn't going to be able to feel him completely, but he wasn't about to press his luck. Especially since Francis seemed to be so hesitant already. Knowing he was making all the advances tonight, he brought his hands to the other's stomach, slowly raising his shirt up.

Rolling his eyes at how slow Arthur was undressing him, Francis knew for sure that he had never been top before. He may have tried, but in the end he was bottom material. But oh well, it was too late to back out now.

Making short work of Francis' shirt, he threw it to the side of the room and started to kiss down his jaw. The stubble rubbed his lips sensually, but he knew that it wasn't for him that he was doing it. His hands, unsure of what to do, just rested on his chest, massaging it lightly. It felt strange to be the one pursuing the other, but it was a nice change of pace.

Deciding that this was going to be the last time Arthur was on top, Francis let him do everything. Why leave anything out? A top was supposed to undress both parties, get the bottom stretched and everything, and do most of the work. So he was just going to sit back and not make any decisions.

Sensing that the Parisian was getting bored, Arthur kissed him frantically again as he took off his own shirt quickly. He wanted to make Francis feel as good as he made him feel, and he could only do that by touching. Pushing him back lightly to fall against the pillows he lightly plucked the other's nipples before going to the button on his trousers.

Feeling like he should throw the Englishman a bone, Francis gave a low moan as his cock was brushed. In his mind, he started criticizing Arthur on his technique. He should really learn how to undo pants faster, because the way he was doing them just made everything uncomfortably awkward.

His own cock twitching slightly from the sound, Arthur hurried up again with getting his pants off as well as his own. Now that they were both naked, he didn't take any time before taking Francis' cock into his hand and moving his hand slowly to bring it up. It felt somewhat strange to be doing this after he confessed, but it was a good way to show it.

The next moan that came out of Francis' mouth wasn't so much just for show. He half wished that Arthur would give him a blow job, considering he has never done that so far, but he was going to wait to see what was going to happen.

Still stroking Francis, Arthur couldn't help but look at his face as he continued to get harder under his touch. It was highly embarrassing when Francis did it, but he could now see why. Seeing him getting affected by what he was doing was somewhat addicting.

Wanting to see him even more affected, he slipped down on the bed so that his face was a few centimetres away from his prick. Staring up at his face, he gave it an experimental lick to see the small shudder run through his body. This was the first time in a while that Arthur had given a blow job, but he didn't think he was too bad. After all, he had made men cum before.

Finally! Francis closed his eyes, feeling the mouth on his cock. He always enjoyed a good blow job, even if it was a quick one in a back alley behind a bar. But having that rude mouth on him was somewhat different than all the others. It was surely much better, at least, even if his technique might not be the best.

With Francis' eyes closed, Arthur swirled the tip of his tongue around the head of his prick; tasting his precum. It wasn't horrible, but somewhat addicting in a sickening way. One of his hands went to hold the base and he brought the head past his lips, sucking and rasping it with his tongue. Hopefully it would help make Francis feel good, but with his list of experiences he was probably going to be hard to entertain.

Thinking that it would have been easier to proceed if Arthur had gotten the bottle of lube before giving him a blow job, Francis just let it happen. He wasn't going to give advice, and he wasn't going to help him out, because he knew Arthur would be insulted if he did.

* * *

...Please don't hate us. We had to leave it here! Next chapter will have more... but seriously, we hadn't planned at ALL for Arthur to be top! It kinda just... happened. Anyway, hope everyone will like it.


	31. Chapter 31

Brining the hard flesh deeper into his mouth, Arthur started to suck at it. His cheeks hollowing out from the suction, he started to bob his head to bring Francis closer, but not over. The more saliva that was on it, the faster he was able to go until he started to relax his throat to be able to take him deeper.

Lifting his hands to put them in Arthur's short hair, Francis made sure not to push down. It felt good being in his mouth, after going so long without a blow job, but he didn't want to choke him or else he wouldn't want to ever do it again.

Seeing that Francis was starting to get into it, Arthur continued to suck hard before pulling himself off. A wet sound was made as his prick came out of his mouth when he leaned over to the drawer where the lube was. Grabbing it as well as a condom, he went back to Francis and pushed his legs apart.

Going back to his previous ministrations, he then made sure to coat his fingers liberally with lube before pressing one lightly against Francis' hole.

Waiting for the unmistakable feeling of being entered, Francis grabbed the blanket in a light fist. It had been a while since he was bottom. His last time was with Ivan so he could get a promotion. It had felt good then, because of his size and his expertise, even if it hurt like a bitch the next day. He wondered what it would be like this time.

Sucking on the head as the finger slipped in, Arthur looked up at Francis to see that he was starting to get nervous. Maybe it wasn't the right word, but it seemed very close to it since his hands had a death grip on the blanket. He gave the underside of his prick a long lick before saying. "It's not going to hurt you know. I'll go slow." He added with a small smirk. It was strange to see the self proclaimed master of love look so uncomfortable, but it was to be expected somewhat.

"Of course it won't hurt, what with your cock." Francis said automatically, looking down and giving a charming smile, despite the circumstances. When he was a teenager and still trying out new things, he had always had dildos and vibrators, so this was nothing new. It had just been a while.

Snarling at the comment, Arthur jabbed his finger hard into the other's entrance and relished in the flicker of pain. "Be that way then; I guess I don't have to take any precautions." Twisting it around a few times, he started to lick the sides of his cock before slipping in a second to join it.

Francis stopped the groan that was growing in his throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. It didn't really hurt much, it was just that his body was remembering and anticipating what was coming next. He closed his eyes, now hating the scarlet colour he had chosen for the ceiling.

Licking the bead of milky white cum off the head of Francis' length, Arthur now started to twist and hook his fingers. He knew that he was going to eventually hit his prostate, and it was just a matter of trying until it was found. Hopefully that would get a reaction out of him.

Not being able to stop the sudden moan, Francis arched off the bed slightly as his prostate was hit. Ah, it had been so long since he had felt that intense pleasure. Perhaps the time since his last had made it even more sensitive.

Arthur couldn't help himself as he grinned wickedly against the heated flesh. It was strange not to be having this done to himself, but having the opportunity to make Francis like this was too good to pass up. Plus, it helped show that he meant business and he wasn't going to let him walk over him. Just because he admitted his feelings didn't mean he was going to become like some little lass. "I'd take it that you liked that. Maybe I should just wait until my prick is in you to make you feel good so you will beg for it again."

Gritting his teeth, Francis tried to ignore the fingers deep inside him. "Just try and make me beg." He said silently, the bet laid out plainly. Francis M. Bonnefoy would do many things for sex, but beg was one thing he would never do.

"Is that a challenge?" Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. If it was, he would be more than happy to comply. Getting the sex-driven man to beg would be an accomplishment to be proud of in the bedroom. Especially if it was his own prick he was lusting for. Stilling the fingers inside the other, he stared into his eyes.

"Yes, it is." Francis said, determined. Arthur may be stubborn, but Francis was a genius in the bedroom, so there was nothing that the Brit could do to out-sex him. If worse came to worse, Francis could just ignore how he had agreed to bottom and tie the blond up.

Taking a second to lay out a plan, Arthur just took out his fingers and got out from between Francis' legs. "Fine, sounds good." Even though there wasn't anything hanging on winning or not, he still didn't want to lose. Hearing him beg for Arthur to fill him would be enough.

Lifting his eyebrow, Francis stayed on the bed, waiting to see what he was going to do. If his whole plan was just to leave him here, then he could just jerk off or something. Possibly even go to a bar and find someone to be a quick fuck, and be done with it.

It didn't take long for Arthur to find something to tie Francis up with, and when he got back on the bed, he made sure to get his wrists tied before anything else. Then he wouldn't be able to touch himself or anything else. It wasn't much of a struggle even though he was slightly hoping for one; to prove that he could take control. "Being a bottom makes you suddenly subdued? I should have forced you into this sooner." Apparently the prospect at being top made him more sadistic, but he didn't feel as if it was a bad thing.

"I figure if I let you be a proper top once, you will be happy to continue to be my bottom for the rest of our relationship." Francis said, watching as his hands were tied up. Well, this would make things more difficult, but he still wouldn't beg.

Hearing Francis say 'relationship' made Arthur hesitate a bit; making him tie the knot a little too tight as he tried to make up for being surprised. "Shut up wanker." With that, he went to tie his ankles to the bed so that he couldn't move except to arch. Looking around the room, he grabbed a tie off the floor and tied it around Francis' eyes. That would buy him more time, as well as make him anticipate his next move.

Twisting his wrist to loosen up the knot enough so it wasn't painful, Francis gave a laugh. "If I had known you were this kinky before, I would have taken out my whips and gags." He said, now blind to the world. His collection of gags wasn't too impressive, of course, but his whip collection was actually quite extensive. In a different room of course, and in the position he was in, he wouldn't tell Arthur where.

Slapping Francis' face hard, Arthur hissed. "I thought I told you to _shut up_." His tone was like ice, and he was even slightly surprised at his reaction. Since he had never been top, it was highly addicting to have this power over Francis; especially since he had a goal in mind with it.

"I will however, let you answer my question: where are your candles? Preferable tea lights." Pulling at his hair, he forced his blind face to face him.

Surprised at the Brit's actions, Francis actually stayed silent for a second before remembering the question. "You know, I have been in a few BDSM scenes, and you have to use special candles. They burn at a lower temperature, and therefore the wax doesn't leave burn marks on the skin."

Tightening the grip on the other's hair, he growled again. "Where are they, or did you suddenly not comprehend my question? Do you think you are in much of a situation to dissect what I say?" Arthur had almost forgot about both of their erections before he felt his pulse needly. He just wanted to be touched, but he made himself wait.

"Considering you are asking me a question you need to be answered, I think I am in the position of power." Francis said, smiling even as he felt some hairs being pulled out. Normally he would have complained about how much time it took him to get it this silky, but right now he didn't care.

Arthur leaned over his body and whispered against his lips. "Would you rather me leave you here?" Without warning, he pressed them together harshly. Nipping at Francis' lips, he took no extra time as they opened to start tongue-fucking his mouth. Satisfied with his work, he pulled back again and tugged at his hair. "Well?"

"Mm..." Francis let out a moan. And, he was actually strangely curious what Arthur had in mind with the candles, so he decided to give him this one. "The cupboard in the kitchen. Beside the spices that you never use in your food."

"Better." With that, the Englishman slipped off the bed and made his way there. When he left the bedroom, it was as if part of the illusion had broken and he was somewhat wondering what he was doing. Then as if a wave washed over him, he was quickly reminded of his erection and his desire to get Francis to beg for him. That was all he needed to hurry over to the kitchen despite being completely naked to take a few candles and a lighter.

Waiting in the darkness, Francis shifted uncomfortably. It was strange, not being able to see what was going on, but it was also slightly exiting. He heard the door open again, and felt the bed depress with the weight of another person.

Not wanting to use the candles just yet, Arthur went between Francis' legs again. This time though, he didn't make his presence known except for the movements of the bed as he roughly grabbed onto the other's nipples; rolling them between his fingers painfully.

Groaning out in surprise, Francis bit his lip to keep quiet. Fuck, Arthur really needed to learn how to do that so it felt good, not painful. He didn't mind if his nipples tingled in the morning, but if they felt like they had been chopped off, that wouldn't be good.

Glad from the response, the Briton lowered his head and took one into his mouth, licking and nibbling it as he lessened the torture on the other dusky nub. Arthur was determined to make Francis crack first, whether it be to beg or just get even harder then they both were at the moment.

Wishing he could see, Francis was glad he hadn't put a gag on him. "Expecting milk?"

Growling at the question, Arthur just bit down on the pebbled flesh hard enough to make Francis cringe before pressing it with his fingers. "You bloody frog."

The way he was going, Francis' nipples would be sore enough for his fine silk shirts to aggravate them. It was a good thing Arthur would never be top again, or else the Frenchman would have to teach him about Top Etiquette.

With Francis silent once again, Arthur continued to move over his body. Bringing his lips up to the other's neck, he started to lick and suck at it lightly; making sure not to leave a mark. His hands had started to roam, mapping out Francis' body as well as finding his erogenous zones.

This wasn't as bad, Francis thought. It actually felt good. He wished he would touch him lower, of course, but wouldn't say it. That could be considered begging, after all. That was what this was all about, and he wouldn't lose to an Englishman.

Pretending as if he didn't feel bad for almost biting off his nipple, Arthur continued to brush his fingers lightly over Francis' body. A few times he saw him shudder or jump into the touch (the inner-upper arm and sides of his chest being two that he filed away for further knowledge) but he never lingered on one spot. He was determined to make him want and beg for more. If that didn't work, then he would beg for release; either sexually or physically.

"Enjoying yourself?" Francis asked, feeling he needed to say something. This was turning him on much more than normal sex, which proved further how much of a pervert he was. But, for a man who prided himself on that, it wasn't a bad thing. He felt Arthur brush just above where his hair started, so he let a small moan at being touched so close to his need.

Going up onto his knees, Arthur stroked himself once just to get the edge of the desire off. "It's obvious whose enjoying this." Running one finger up Francis' length, he grinned at the long shudder that went through his body.

Finally, something touching him. Not nearly as much as he wanted, of course, but he would take what he could. He also wanted to see what Arthur was doing, but as it was he could only feel the bed move and hear the slight rustle of the blankets.

Using one hand to puck lightly at the curly blond hair above the needy erection, Arthur's other hand was letting his fingertips ghost over the engorged flesh. "Now are you regretting your choice? My mouth could be on your prick right now, or mine inside you, but you decided to be _difficult_." Punctuating his word, Arthur squeezed the head of his cock hard before going back to his teasing touches.

Moaning, Francis lifted his hips to get closer to those touches. "You are the one being difficult." After all, Arthur had been the one to mention begging when he should know very well that a Sex God never begged.

Laughing quietly, Arthur continued to torture Francis as he raised his body. His own comment gave him an idea though, which he smiled at. Straddling the body, he made sure that their matching erections wouldn't touch as he went to sit on the Parisian's chest. "Just perfect, wouldn't you agree?" Arthur purred quietly, putting his hands on the headboard behind Francis' head.

Feeling the body on top of him, Francis wondered what he was doing. He wanted this to be finished, to have more pleasure, but with things like they were it probably wasn't going to happen.

Still smiling, Arthur leaned down and grabbed the man's jaw before pressing his lips against his. The kiss was quite tame compared to the others they had shared so far, but it was mostly to distract Francis as he grabbed his own prick in the other hand and as soon as he pulled away, pressed the head to the moist lips. "You know what to do; you've been bragging about how good you are."

Francis felt the precum on his lips, so he stuck out his tongue, touching it to the tip of Arthur's cock. He tasted the familiar salty liquid, and he opened his mouth wider because he knew the Brit would just push it in if he didn't.

Once the head of his prick was inside Francis' mouth, Arthur just groaned appreciatively. There was a small part in his mind telling him that he was going to regret taking this much control over the Frenchman, but right now he was enjoying it too much. Plus, Arthur was bent on making him beg for him.

He didn't like giving blow jobs that he wasn't controlling, but Francis figured there was nothing he could do about it, anyway. Arthur seemed to be enjoying it, going by the sounds he was making. The Frenchman licked the slit, taking more of the precum down his throat.

Slowly, Arthur started to rock his hips so that his erection only slid a bit farther into the warm mouth. He didn't want to go too fast at first, because there was a small part in his mind that knew it wouldn't be the best for maintaining trust.

Slightly surprised that Arthur wasn't simply fucking his mouth, Francis relaxed his throat just in case. Well, if the Brit didn't really want to do an S&M scene, then why bother tying him up and blind folding him? Or perhaps he just didn't know how to do S&M.

It didn't take long for Arthur's hips to start rolling quicker and deeper as he got addicted to the feeling. Francis' mouth was easy to slid in and out of as he lost himself to the rhythm. Occasionally it would slip out and leave a path of precum and saliva on his cheek, but then Arthur would just push in again and continue.

_Merde_, with how fast Arthur was going now, Francis could barely breath. He had to take quick breathes through his nose before his cock was at the back of his throat again. He didn't really mind it though, since that was what they were playing for.

Arthur was panting hard as he continued to shag the other's mouth and throat. If he kept up at this, he wasn't sure if he would last long enough to have Francis beg. After all, he didn't seem like he was close to it yet, even though it would make it much easier for him to breath.

Just as he was about to gag from how far Arthur was pushing into his throat, Francis felt him pull out of his mouth. He moved his jaw, getting it to relax once again. Trying to think of something snarky to say, he couldn't think of anything, so he just continued to lay there.

"Speechless for once in your life? I know of something that you could say." Arthur taunted him, still panting off his pleasure. As much as he wanted to cum down his throat, he would rather wait for the main part before climaxing.

"Just catching my breath. But it sounds like you are all tired out already. Shall we call it a night?" Not that he wanted this to be over before he had a blinding orgasm, he just liked taunting Arthur. He still wished the blind fold was off, but at least it wasn't a gag.

Immediately catching his breath, Arthur shimmied off his chest before going between his legs again. "Shall we try this again then? Maybe then you will be screaming out for me to fill you."

Giving a small gasp as he suddenly felt Arthur brush his inner thigh, Francis shook his head. "The one screaming will be you, as you cum inside me from my amazingly sensual derrière."

"You do realize that French is no where near as romantic as a language as you are led to believe?" With that, he grabbed the lube he fished from the drawer and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers. "It just makes you sound like a pompous prat."

"Don't you know? Pompous prats are the most romantic people possible. Much more than prudes." Francis said with a slight snarl. Of course, he wasn't actually mad, he just knew that when he said things like this it made Arthur angry, which made him cute.

Growling back, Arthur just stuck his finger inside his hole quickly without warming up the lube or giving him any hint. "Who are you calling a prude? I may keep up appearances for the public, but in the bedroom I am quite the connoisseur." Whatever made him give up that detail again was beyond him despite for the fact it was the truth. There had been things he had tried in the past that if anyone tried to talk to him about them, they would only get a blush and maybe a fist in the face for asking.

Moaning in surprise, Francis arched his back slightly. "You -ah- hate French so much, yet you just used a French word." He said, his voice slightly more breathless than normal. Damn that Brit, he went straight for his prostate.

"Shut up." He said harshly, jabbing his finger against that small bundle of nerves again. Francis was squeezing around him already, so it was quite obvious he hadn't lied when he said he only ever bottomed for their boss (as sickening as the thought was).

Biting his lip to keep himself from moaning at every thrust, Francis tasted coppery blood. But damn everyone to hell if he was going to act like some god forsaken bottom who blushed at every single kiss. He wasn't English!

Seeing that Francis was massacring his lips made Arthur lean forward and pull them into a kiss. Lapping up the crimson liquid, he smirked as he felt a gasp of air against his lips as he prodded the other's prostate again.

Lifting his hips to the touch, Francis pushed against the invading tongue. He might be tied up and blindfolded, had fingers inside him, and was going to be the bottom, but he had to prove that in the relationship he was still the dominant.

Their tongues quickly started fighting as Arthur demanded control. A few seconds into it though and he was slipping a second finger past the extremely tight entrance to continue the assault on his prostate.

As the second finger went in, Francis gasped slightly, relinquishing control of the kiss for a few seconds. But he fought to get it back, because he wouldn't let Arthur have dominance of everything, dammit.

Pulling their mouths apart, Arthur smiled before gasping himself as their erections brushed each other. He could tell that Francis was also affected by it as his body shivered. "You're going to have to beg before you get release frog."

"I won't -uhmn- beg." He said, trying to get more friction by moving his hips, at the same time pushing the fingers farther inside him. He really wanted Arthur inside him instead, because that would probably give him more pleasure.

"You should be happy that I'm more interested in a verbal plea because your body already seems like it's begging loud and clear. You know what they say: actions speak louder than words." Still, Arthur couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to thrust into his tight hole.


	32. Chapter 32

Tightening his hands into fists, Francis flexed them, feeling the ropes cutting into his flesh. "So your body is saying you are in love with me." Because he still noticed how carefully he was being prepared and how much lube he had used.

"_Like_, not love." Arthur growled again, glad he couldn't see Francis' eyes at the moment. If he could, he knew he would break down. Still, he continued the assault on his sweet spot and used his other hand to pull at the course hair above the Parisian's prick.

Tears prickling at his eyes from the sharp pain on such a sensitive place, Francis gave a groan of discomfort. It grew in his throat as he felt Arthur add a third finger, stretching him even more. He had already had three fingers in him tonight, but it had been long enough for his hole to shrink again.

There was a small moment where Arthur had to keep himself from burying himself deep into Francis, but he managed to keep his wits and continue stretching him. Feeling the tightness around his fingers was driving his imagination insane, thinking about what it would feel like squeezing and contracting around his erection instead of his fingers. Letting out a low groan, he reached down to palm himself slowly.

"How are you -ahh- going to wait for me to beg when... you are alr-already that turned on?" It was getting harder to speak, being stretched that much after so long. Why was it that as soon as he had something up his ass he suddenly turned into a moaning bottom?

"As long as I must." Not being able to hold back much longer though, Arthur ripped the foil open of the condom quickly and slid it on clumsily with one hand. If anything, he was using it still so that the feeling wouldn't be as strong so he could hopefully last longer. It was a nice change hearing and seeing Francis be the needy one, but he was quite close as well. "Arch your back."

Not even asking, Francis did as instructed. He figured that if he didn't, then Arthur would probably pleasure him until his body did it for him. It was awkward, lying with his back arched like that, but he hoped he wouldn't have to stay like that for long.

Smirking that Francis listened immediately, Arthur purred. "Higher you fool." After all, his plan would only work if he was completely off the bed. The Englishman still had his fingers up the Parisian's arse, but he wasn't about to let them out until he was ready. When he pushed up with his feet as well, he allowed himself to smile. "Very good." Now it was time to get his plan ready.

Breathing evenly now, Francis waited to find out what was about to happen. Now he only felt one hand; the one inside him. So just what was the other hand doing? He could already feel that if he stayed like this for long, his legs would eventually collapse.

Lining up the candles he got from the kitchen under Francis' back, Arthur took the lighter and started lighting them. "Do you feel it yet?" He asked quietly, his lips pursed together in concentration. It would ruin it if he just started to shag him like he so desperately wanted.

Confused as he felt heat under him, Francis tried to guess what was happening. He could faintly smell... burning? Wax maybe? It was then that he remembered Arthur had asked him about candles. "_Merde!_ What the hell is wrong with you, _sourcils_?" He yelled, the heat from the candles now making itself more obvious.

His whole face smiling, Arthur couldn't help but laugh with an edge of villainous humour. "Nothing is wrong with me, _frog._ I know what I want and I am going to get it." Seeing Francis desperately trying to get away from the heat was just what he wanted. It wasn't too hot to burn him if he stayed as far as he was, but it was impossible for him to move to the side to relax.

Groaning in frustration, Francis' resolve to not beg just grew stronger. It didn't matter what was going to happen, he wouldn't say it. The heat and the position was getting uncomfortable, but not as bad as he knew they would get, especially after they started having sex.

The light from the candles made Francis' body seem to glow making Arthur lick his lips subconsciously. "You know what you have to say to get this to stop."

"Fuck you." Francis spat, not actually mad but not thinking about how things sounded in this situation. And they had work in the morning! Well, as things were going, they would both be staying home.

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Arthur pushed his fingers hard into the body and watched him shiver. "My pleasure, filthy Frenchman." He was determined to enjoy this, since after this display he probably wouldn't be allowed to top for a long time. Although, it would just make it sweeter when he was given the privilege again.

Groaning, Francis felt his cock twitch painfully. It hadn't been touched in forever, and he had a sinking suspicion that it wasn't going to be touched for a while. One of his leg muscles twitched also, threatening that it would eventually give out from the awkward position.

Watching the ignored length twitch against the warm air, Arthur knew he couldn't control himself much longer. Without much warning, he slipped his fingers out of Francis and only took a second to rub cool lube over his prick before he was buried to the hilt inside of Francis.

"Ah!" Francis yelled out, suddenly being filled. Did the Brit not remember that he had a blindfold on and he had _fucking fire_ underneath him? "_Merde sacre bleu fils de salope fous le camp!_" He started swearing in French as his back lowered, the small flames getting closer to his naked flesh.

"You know wh-what you have to say." Arthur grunted out, the tightness overwhelming to him. No wonder Francis liked to go on about how tight he was. It felt as if his prick was getting snapped in half by his hole. His fingers were digging into the other's hip, keeping himself from creating a frantic rhythm right away.

Squeezing his eyes shut behind the blindfold, Francis gritted his teeth. It hurt like hell, but there was an edge to it that he knew would turn into pleasure. But not before the heat on his back turned into burning and his legs didn't hold him up.

Shaking slightly as he let himself pull back, Arthur waited until only the head of his prick was still in before slamming back. A few more times of it though and he was starting to get into a smooth rhythm that was quickly gaining pace.

Legs almost becoming jelly as his prostate was hit, Francis yelled out as a part of his back came dangerously close to touching a flame. "_Tu m`emmerdes pute, __la conasse_!" He said, being able to swear in French easier than English.

"If you were to swear in English, maybe I would consider giving you a break." The Briton said as he tried to get his breath back. Each thrust made him mad with pleasure, but there was no way he would service Francis except hitting his prostate.

The thrusts were making his whole body move forward, making the top of his legs vulnerable to the fire now. But he couldn't swear in English. If Arthur gave him a break because of it, that would be practically begging. "_Vas faire foutre a la vache_."

Leaning forward, Arthur sucked at the skin of his stomach violently until there was no question there would be a mark there. "That wasn't very nice. If you are getting tired, there is only one word you need to say."

Francis continued swearing, not saying anything that even sounded like 'please'. So what if his back felt like it was actually on fire and his cock was about to burst and his ass threatening to bleed? He wouldn't beg, no matter what Arthur did. He would rather bite his tongue off.

Moving his cool hands from Francis' hips, Arthur placed them on his back to get more leverage and to create a drastic temperature difference. Hopefully he would beg soon, because even with the condom he knew he couldn't last nearly as long as someone used to topping. "Just say it you arse!"

"N-non..." Francis panted, the cool hands on his back feeling nice. But at the same time, why should he be the only one that was uncomfortable? So an idea came to his mind, and knowing that it would hurt him more, he still knew that he had to do it. Trying to steady his shaking legs, the Frenchman quickly let himself fall, back touching the tiny flames. It burnt his back, but the pleasure he felt as he felt Arthur quickly pull his hands away was worth it.

Quickly he was back up, but realized too late that that manoeuvrer had cost him. Now his back hurt even more, and his legs were even more unsteady.

"Are you insane? You got us both burnt!" Arthur grunted, his hands now hurting a bit. It wasn't enough to keep him from thrusting fast and deep into Francis. He didn't have the best technique or the most patience, but he made up for it with his speed and vigour.

Francis gave an unsteady laugh, wanting to sound like he was fine. Arthur still thrust into him constantly, and every time he hit his prostate it made his legs wobble uncontrollably. Now he was much closer to the candles than before, the muscles in his back twitching. "So how does it f-ah!- feel being top?" he panted out.

"About as good as you feel being bottom; admit it." It was almost too good as Francis continued to squeeze around him. Arthur could tell that only his desperation not to beg was keeping him from collapsing on the bed.

Francis pulled at the ropes on his wrists to get his mind off his back. "I'll never say that." He said through gritted teeth. It might feel good when his sweet spot was hit, but that was it. Mostly he was occupied with making sure he didn't collapse on the fire.

Finally getting desperate, Arthur moved one if his hands to start rubbing Francis' prick. It didn't seem like he was going to beg any time soon so he figured he would at least make the frog cum before him.

Gasping as he finally felt something on his cock , Francis moaned at the feeling. _Merde_ he wasn't going to last much longer, but he was afraid what would happen when he came. Would his legs give out all together? They were already shaking uncontrollably.

Bloody hell, there was no way that Arthur would be able to stay like this for more than five minutes now. He was already biting his lip and digging his fingers into Francis' hip while the other jerked him off rapidly. It was quite obvious by now that he wasn't going to beg, but it wasn't going to stop either of them from climaxing. "This is your last chance."

Almost screaming, Francis shook his head. He was now almost touching the candles and could smell the distinct smell of burning hair. He knew they were both about to cum and could only hope that some of the semen would get on the candles, putting them out.

Growling in frustration Arthur sped up his hand and his thrusts, desperate to make them both cum. Using his over hand to put the flames out, he barely noticed the pain. Instead, he latched his mouth violently onto Francis' neck, biting and sucking and licking at the sweaty flesh, urging them both to climax.

Feeling that the candles were out, Francis all but collapsed, hardly feeling the hot wax burn him more and the small metal bases cut into his skin. Soon he was cumming into Arthur's hand, yelling out more French swears.

There was nary a second before Francis collapsed and came hard between them as Arthur did the same. His vision went white for a few seconds as his heart beat raced in his ear as he forced himself not to fall on top of the Frenchman. Instead, he fell to the side and started to feel the pulse of his orgasm throughout his body. Still, he still had enough wits about him to tie off the condom once he took it off to throw it in the garbage.

Now Francis could distinctly feel the sharp metal pieces digging into his back. It was already sensitive from being burned, so it hurt even more as they scratched at the tortured skin, drawing blood in places. But he was much too exhausted to say or do anything about it, so he simply laid there, breathing heavily. Hopefully Arthur would get them out from under him soon.

Still panting, Arthur wearily opened his eyes and mumbled. "Get up. You're still laying on the holders." They probably weren't the most comfortable things to be on after everything. Arthur would push him over himself, if he wasn't so weak from everything he had done. It took a lot of stamina to be top; same with riding he had noticed.

Groaning, Francis forced himself to roll over onto his side. Because his hands were still tied, he couldn't roll over completely, and just managed enough for a few inches underneath him. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, because maybe that would help his aching limbs. He knew it would do nothing for his back, however.

Gathering some fragments of his energy, Arthur quickly grabbed the small candles and let Francis collapse again. Now that his high was washing away slowly, he reached up and untied his wrists from the bed then slowly undid the tie over his face. There was a small part of him that was scared that he would be upset with him, but he had hoped that they cared enough not to be.

Opening his eyes, Francis sought out the Brit. "Arthur... kiss me." He said, not being able to sit up even with his bonds undone. He would probably have marks on his wrists for a while, he thought as he saw the angry red lines from the rope.

Quickly undoing the bonds on Francis' ankles first, Arthur leaned over his body and kissed him slowly. It was one of their sweeter kisses since Arthur was trying not to let the other man know just how emotionally insecure he was. He had all but tortured the man he 'liked'; even for him that made him feel upset.

When they parted, Francis gave a small smile. "Thank you." He whispered, closing his eyes. Nothing mattered at the moment; not the fact that his back was still killing him, and not the fact that he was covered in cum. He just needed to go to sleep.

Seeing that he was starting to fall asleep, the Englishman shook his shoulder. "Before you fall asleep: where are your bandages?" He wasn't about to leave Francis with all these burns and cuts after he did them. "And burn cream."

"There is a first aid kit in the bathroom." He mumbled, not even opening his eyes. Sleep was creeping up on him, so he wasn't even thinking about what was going on anymore, just getting to sleep.

"Go onto your stomach first." Waiting for him to roll over, Arthur ended up helping him. Seeing the bright red, slightly singed skin along with the few cuts from the candles made him wince a bit before he went to get the supplies.

It didn't take long for him to rub burn salve along his back before placing bandages on the small cuts. Francis' wouldn't feel too good waking up tomorrow, and he probably wouldn't like the state his no doubt expensive sheets were in. Although right now, the Briton could care less as he pulled the covers over their naked, sweaty bodies and fell asleep next to the man he never thought he'd fall for.


	33. Chapter 33

Pain was the dominant feeling Francis felt in the morning.

He groaned as he opened his eyes to the sunlit room. His back was stinging, with the sheets sticking to it. The muscles in his legs felt as if he had run for the whole day before. His butt felt as if... well, as if he had been fucked last night. Even his wrists and neck hurt. "Arthur, you are _never_ being top again." He grumbled.

Slowly blinking into full consciousness, Arthur looked over to Francis. "Was I too good for you?" He wanted to rub in his face about how he didn't think that he would be good, but Francis might take it the wrong way and actually never forgive him. Not that he cared about what he thought anyways, the frog.

"Usually, when someone does something nice for you, like I don't know, _letting you top for once_, usually you don't put _fucking fire_ underneath them." He would have gotten up and left, but he was in way too much pain to move.

"Temper temper. If you were so opposed to it, you didn't have to tell me where the candles were in the first place." Arthur said, adding as an afterthought. "If you also didn't feel the need to challenge me it would have been much more vanilla."

Glaring at the man, Francis pursed his lips. In a sexy way, of course. "I was curious what you were going to do with them, and you wanted me to beg. How could I not challenge that?" It was obviously all Arthur's fault, because he wasn't the one in pain.

"Curiosity killed the cat, did it not?" Arthur asked with a small grin. He couldn't help but feel smug that it was Francis in pain this morning and not him. "I will make an educated guess that we will not be showing up to work this morning?"

"No. And you better take care of me." After, Francis had taken care of Arthur when he was sick, and it wasn't even his fault that he got sick. This was completely Arthur's fault, and he was going to reap what he had sown.

Giving a melodramatic sigh, Arthur turned around to kiss Francis lightly. It was addicting being the top, but he knew it wasn't his place. "Whatever you say." Sliding out of the bed, he went to get a warm cloth so he could wash their bodies off. Everything had crusted on and it was getting somewhat annoying.

Lying back down, still on his stomach, Francis rubbed his wrists. Not only had the ropes cut into them, but they had rubbed the skin raw as well. "You better hope my back doesn't scar." He said loud enough for Arthur to hear him. A scar on this perfect body would be horrible.

"It will if you keep babying it. Give me your wrists." He ordered curtly, rubbing a cooling salve on the raw skin. "I guess it's a good thing I don't do this often since this would become tiresome." Honestly though, Arthur enjoyed being able to look after Francis, even if he was being a whiny lad.

Closing his eyes, Francis let his wrist be taken care of. It felt nice to have something cool being put on them, by such gentle hands. "Can you get my cell phone? I'll call in and tell them we won't be there today."

"Your phone?" Arthur said, raising a thick eyebrow. "If you phone in for both of us, they will be suspicious." He didn't want people at work thinking about them as a couple, but he wouldn't hesitate to rip Francis' away if he tried flirting with someone.

"Whatever, just give me your phone." Francis grumbled, thinking how stupid Arthur was being. If they were both sick on the same day, people would be wondering anyways. He lifted a tired hand, waiting for the phone.

Grumbling to himself, Arthur handed Francis his cell and watched him dial the number to their workplace. Now it was going to be painfully obvious, even if Francis didn't frolic around telling them about it. Although it didn't seem like he would be doing any frolicking any time soon.

"_Bonjour_ Ivan. Arthur and I aren't going to be in work today. Yes, we had hard sex last night and are still-" He stopped talking as the phone was taken forcefully from his hands. "What did you do that for?"

Arthur put the phone to his ear and glared at Francis before speaking. "I'm terribly sorry Mr. Braginski. My fellow employee and I were not partaking in any _vulgar_ affairs contrary to his thoughts, but we have both contracted a rather troublesome stomach flu and are unsure when we will be fit to work."

"Well yes, my throat is sore, but that is because of the hickey on my neck." Francis said loudly into the phone before Arthur closed it with a snap. "You are much too high strung. If you were more loose, you wouldn't put candles under the one who you love when he said he wouldn't beg."

"_Like._" He hissed. "And I am not high strung. It was a measure I thought would make you realize what you wanted." Was he never going to let Arthur forget? It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy it, since they had both climaxed quite explosively. "Why do I even bother with you? This just reminds me of why I prefer to be alone with a cup of tea."

"You know, in French, the term like is _aimer_. And how you say I love you is _je t'aim_e. So really, you saying that you like me is the same as saying you love me." Francis took his hand and went under the covers, wanting to sooth his hole, which was throbbing still. He felt something dry, and wondered what it was, because Arthur had worn a condom. He took his hand up and saw little copper flakes. "You made me bleed! You are never being top ever again. Not in a million years."

His forehead pulsing, Arthur decided to attend to his first comment, well, first. "That may be the truth in French, but in English, which just so happens to be the language I speak, it is not. So shut the bloody hell up." Seeing the dried blood he just shook his head. "I couldn't have. I made sure to prepare you enough. Plus did you ever stop to think with your conceited mind that maybe you would just have to get used to it?"

"You obviously did. Do you want to check my ass to make sure?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow. He ripped the blankets off, wincing as his back stung. The burn creme he put on last night must have stuck to the sheets, because now his back hurt again.

Standing up quickly, Arthur looked away with a small blush. He didn't need to see more of how he hurt Francis. "I don't care, I'm going to go make us a large breakfast since we will have time to eat it."

"You better." Francis muttered, just before realizing what Arthur had just said. "Wait!" He stumbled out of the bed quickly, cursing his sluggish legs. His back was also letting out it's protest to the sudden movement, but he still tried running after the man. "Don't touch my kitchen! Get away!"

"You aren't in any position to disagree. Look at you, you can barely walk never mind try and stay upright long enough to cook. Go lay down and I'll make us some food." Arthur's mind was separated by being partially smug that he made Francis this way as well as embarrassed with himself.

"Non, non non non!" Francis said, wobbling to the counter and using it to hold himself upright. "You are neither touching my kitchen, nor making food. I can cook." He could cook in any situation! He was French, and that is what the French did.

"And you are a fairy who can do magic." He replied unamused. "Now go lay down. I won't listen to you complain about how I made you stand up after last night."

"And you would rather listen to me complain about how you made me eat tasteless horribly burnt food?" God it was difficult to stay standing up, but he couldn't eat English food. He just couldn't. It would be bland, and probably look like a fried penis on top of mashed potatoes.

Glaring at him, Arthur snapped. "Whatever. Do whatever the bloody hell you want and I'll just get out of your way. I'll see you at work tomorrow I suppose."

Closing his hand in a fist, Francis put his head down on the cool counter. "Don't make me run after you, because you know I can't right now."

His heart pounding in anger and a blush on his cheeks, Arthur turned around. "Fine. Do what you want. I'll be in the bedroom." As angry as the other made him, he could make his mood change almost immediately. It still drove the Briton mad that he had such control over his emotions though.

Smiling, Francis turned around with effort. He started getting things ready, it taking longer than usual considering he had to rely on practically everything to keep him standing. He felt something run down his back, so figured one of his scabs had opened up from moving around. It didn't matter, though, because he was in his element, doing one of his most favourite jobs.

Arthur on the other hand returned to the room with a huff. There wasn't much for him to do, so he got to work on stripping the bed to put the sheets in the laundry. Going into the bathroom, he looked through the cupboards to find clean sheets and when he found some, he made the bed up again. It was the least he could do since he hurt Francis so much, but it still didn't help the strange cloud looming over his head.

Finally Francis finished with the cooking. It wasn't his most intricate meal, but it was certainly better than what Arthur would have made. He really didn't think he could carry a tray of food to the bedroom, however, so he just slouched into a chair. "Arthur! It's ready!"

Putting the final touches on all the medical supplies and the like he got ready for Francis, Arthur walked out of the room to see him all but passed out in a chair. "You shouldn't have do this you know. I was more than ready to make a satisfactory meal for us both but you just had to work yourself to exhaustion."

Opening his eyes and blinking a few times, Francis just picked up his fork. "I am not exhausted. I just look that way." He had placed Arthur's plate on the other side of the table, noticing earlier that he didn't like looking at his back. As well he shouldn't, because he could just imagine how ugly it looked now.

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur just followed Francis by picking up his own utensil. "Don't even try and fool yourself frog. I should be making you lay down right now."

"But I'm hungry." Well, truth be told, he wasn't that hungry. But he ate anyway, acting fine. He made sure not to slouch much, because every time he did he felt the now-delicate skin on his back break, and it was getting increasingly more wet on there.

"Well then you could eat in bed. God knows how much you like it in there if you are having things go your way." He could scarcely remember Francis saying something similar to him before, but it just further proved his point.

Giving a laugh, Francis silently agreed. But -this part he didn't tell Arthur- he wasn't sure he could make it there. Cooking had taken most of his energy, so he wanted to wait until he got some of it back before heading to the bedroom.

Arthur just stared at the Frenchman for a few more seconds before giving up. It didn't look like he was about to pass out, but if he did he could carry him back. Bringing the fork to his lips, he barely noticed the taste of the food over his worry for Francis. He was so worried about him that he wasn't even upset about being worried.

"Do you like it?" Francis asked, hiding his exhaustion. He thought the food was pretty good, given the circumstances. He hadn't been able to get the spices on the very top shelf, because he couldn't stretch his back that much, but it still wasn't bad.

"Hm?" He said, comprehending what he said over all his thoughts. "Oh er, yes, it's very good." It was, but that wasn't a surprise. Arthur was still too wrapped up his in own feelings and confusion to be able to pay attention to much else.

Lifting an eyebrow, Francis put down his fork. "Alright, if you continue being so nice, I will start speaking French. What's with you this morning?" He wondered, looking at him. Even after he had told him what he did last night, he hadn't acted this strange.

"Nothing is 'with me' today. I just happen to be thinking a lot. Is that a crime all of a sudden? If you start speaking French though I'll tie you up again and force feed you some of my scones." They had quiet often had been compared to briquettes of charcoal, but Arthur didn't think they were all that bad.

Eyes widening, Francis put on a scared face then gave a small laugh and went back to eating. Whatever, if Arthur didn't want to be snarky and difficult today, that was fine with him. He found that he liked both moods of his, along with his general angry mood.

* * *

So, jinx-xnij was the 400th reviewer, but you have PMs disabled! You won a story, so please enable them so we can discus what you want.


	34. Chapter 34

Picking at his food, it wasn't long until Arthur felt full and his plate was empty. "Well I know you won't be able to do the dishes. Do... Do you want me to help you get back to bed?"

"I'm fine." Francis smiled, finishing up his food as well. It had been long enough, so he should have enough will power to get back to the bed. He stood up, still stooped, and started walking determinedly out of the kitchen. But soon he knew he wouldn't make it to the bedroom, so he turned and plopped down on the couch, making sure to lay on his stomach. "I'm just going to watch some TV."

"Ok..." Not really even thinking about it, Arthur just got all the dishes ready to wash. What was his problem doing all that to Francis? Sure he wanted to top and then make him beg but this was almost too much. And why was he getting so bent out of shape about it? He was an Englishman, he wasn't supposed to have these feelings for a filthy Parisian.

Turning on the TV Francis looked for something to watch. There wasn't much on, because it was morning of a week day. He ended up just turning on the cooking channel. He grabbed a pillow so he would be more comfortable. "You don't have to do the dishes." He called out.

"If I don't do them you are surely not going to." Plus he did feel somewhat bad to make him do all this. That part was quickly stomped out as he focused on his anger. Why couldn't he just not be attractive or suave or sexy or romantic... Wait, nononono that wasn't what he was supposed to think of him like. He was a lecherous, vile, wine swilling, sex addicted frog. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I can do them tomorrow. Or maybe even later today. After all, I _did _make breakfast, I'm sure I could wash the dishes." After all, most of his dishes weren't dishwasher safe, so it was more difficult to wash them.

Snorting, Arthur just continued with the dishes. "Sure you would. You were just complaining earlier; I'm not going to give you more reason to think I am a terrible top." If he had it his way, he would be topping later in the future when it was much more plain.

"Well you _are_ a terrible top. I am a good top, which is why I am offering to do the dishes." It was also the reason he didn't mention the fact that he thought his back was bleeding again. And since he was watching the food channel, Arthur probably wouldn't come in so he wouldn't see his back.

"It's less that I am a terrible top than you are a lousy bottom. The more you practise the better you get." At this point Arthur had gotten where he just didn't want to be wrong, but he never did.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Francis almost fell asleep. "You are never being top again." He didn't add that he wouldn't mind as much if he was in control, because he didn't want to give Arthur the chance.

Finished with the dishes, Arthur started to put the things away before going out to Francis. "If I have to drag you to bed I'm blaming you..." He stopped as he saw the bleeding back. "Shite! Are you some kind of imbecile! Stay there and I'll take care of it "

Looking up, Francis bit his lip. He hadn't even noticed Arthur had been coming into the room. "It's fine, just leave it." It wasn't enough blood to drip onto the furniture, anyway, so it wasn't a big deal.

"It's not fine! No wonder you're still complaining!" Going to the room to get the medical supplies, Arthur came out with a worried scowl. "Don't you dare complain about what I did if you won't let me take care of it."

Giving a small laugh, Francis stayed where he was and let Arthur take care of his back. Every once in a while he would touch a sore spot, so he would clench his teeth or take in a sharp breath. "You know, you should be a nurse."

Arthur just snorted as he finished wrapping up Francis' back. "And have to deal with whiny people all day? I'd rather just tell them they are going to die and leave them alone. Survival of the fittest as they say."

"So are you going to tell me I'm going to die and leave me alone?" Francis asked, looking at him over his shoulder and smiling. He lifted up on his elbows so he could see him easier, taking a breath as his back was finished.

"You _are_ going to die. Eventually. Though I won't leave you since you are already so fond of reminding me what I did, I wouldn't want you to have more reasons to mock me and deny me what we both know will happen again on a lesser scale." Arthur held out his hand. "I'll help you to the bed."

Shaking his head, Francis denied what he said. This was never happening again, no matter what scale. He held out his hand anyway, being yanked up. "Ow, ok, maybe you wouldn't be a good nurse." He mumbled, leaning on Arthur.

Holding up the Frenchman, Arthur replied. "I was wondering what made you think that." After all, he would have the worst bed-side manners of all nurses. Well, only if his patients were seductive Frenchmen or ignorant Americans.

Making their way back to the bedroom, Francis put his hand on the bed so he could lower himself down. "Well, since we are here, I think you should give me a blow job. After all, the one you gave me last night felt so good."

"And here I was under the impression that you didn't want to do any more sexual activities with me." Crossing his arms in defiance, Arthur scowled. "Why do I bother when I know this is how you'll always be?"

"I said you were never going to be top. I never said anything about sexual activities." Why would anyone not want to do any sexual activities? It made no sense. "But I guess we could just cuddle. If you don't touch my back, of course."

Letting his arms fall to his side, Arthur couldn't help but feel bad. Here Francis was, with his back lightly burnt and scarred as well as his legs all but jelly. Not to mention the embarrassing bruises on his neck, nipples and stomach. "Fine." He muttered with a sigh; his accent dragging it out.

Smiling, Francis laid down, this time on his side, so they could actually cuddle. It was a little more uncomfortable, with the sheets rubbing the side of his back, but it wasn't too bad.

"If that's all you want now." Arthur said cryptically, sitting on the edge of the bed. It would feel strange to cuddle with Francis when they hadn't done anything before hand, but if he actually wasn't going to demand anything, he would do it.

"... Oh, did you mean fine for the blow job?" Francis asked, his grin growing even more. Well, obviously if Arthur was willing, then he wouldn't say no! He would have suggested going all the way, but in these circumstances he would have had to be bottom again.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, though now I don't feel as if it would be a good decision. You'll just hurt yourself more and use it to complain to me." Making a point not to look at Francis, Arthur huffed.

"How could you giving me a blow job hurt me more? It isn't my penis that is in pain." Because if Arthur had hurt his precious, he would be much more angry with him than he was now. How was he supposed to pick up guys if his cock hurt?

Turning his head to glare harshly at him, Arthur snarled. "You will either lay on your back hurting it, or you will sit up and have it hurt. Either way, you will be in pain and I will not be responsible for it a second time."

Rolling his eyes, Francis indicated his current position. "I am neither on my back, nor sitting up, and you can get to my cock." He explained, slightly amazed at his own brilliance. When it came to sexual things, he was always the best at thinking of them.

"It will be awkward for both parties. Forget I even mentioned it."

Sighing dramatically, Francis winced as he rolled onto his back. "Then this way it is." He said, making sure to let the pain out in his voice.

"You're a bloody nymphomaniac." Arthur said before going onto the bed near his legs. He would never admit to it, but he wanted to do it to prove that he could actually care for someone as vile and undeserving as Francis as well as the fact that he felt bad for putting him into so much pain.

Biting his lip so he wouldn't make a pained sound, Francis let out his breath as he felt tentative hands on his manhood. He was looking forward to his second blow job from the Brit, knowing from last night that he was fairly good, and he would probably let him cum in his mouth this time.

Arthur brushed the other's slowly hardening length with his fingertips. It was much more embarrassing to do this when it was almost lunch time, but there was nothing he could do now. He could tell Francis was in pain, but he knew that it would only help push him over the edge when he became more aroused.

Moaning slightly, Francis wanted to arch up into the touch, but knew that would be much more painful than this already was. But, he figured it was worth it if he was going to get another blow job.

The harder Francis' prick became, the more pressure he used on it until it was completely erect. Arthur continued to stroke it though as he leaned over his body to kiss him lightly. "I'm sorry... But if you ever try to get me to say it again I'll fiercely deny it and call you a filthy French whore."

"A filthy French whore that you say sorry to." He said, before regretting it as his cock was squeezed painfully. "You really have a problem with sadism. There are doctors for that." And now that he mentioned it, a medical S&M scene seemed pretty hot. And with the pampering he got afterwards, he would _almost _agree to be the 'patient'.

Growling, Arthur kept himself from ripping his appendage off or simply walking away. "They have doctors for addictions, but I don't see you going to one any time soon. Do you want me to do this or not? I would suggest not getting me any more upset as to insure your 'precious' prick won't be fouled by my teeth."

Looking scared, Francis stayed quiet nonetheless. After last night, he didn't want to test Arthur's patience any more than he had to. And he had to quite a lot, so it was really amazing he hadn't been seriously hurt till last night. Excluding the time when he was kicked in his love maker.

Glad that his threat was understood, Arthur just continued to stroke at Francis' member until milky white beads of precum started to seep from the head. Shuffling so he was between his legs, he licked it off, remembering the taste from last night.

"Mm, your mouth feels so good." Francis moaned, letting his head fall back. Doing perverted things with Arthur was always great, even if he was in pain. Even if he got blow jobs from other men, he would always be thinking of the Brit.

Ignoring his brash comment, the Englishman took the tip in his lips and sucked at it. Licking the underside, he turned his head slightly to be able to swirl his tongue around it sensually.

Putting his hands in Arthur's hair, Francis pushed down slightly. Of course, blow jobs weren't as good as actual sex, but they were still good. He wished he could touch the Englishman, but he was too far away.

Pushing against the hands, Arthur made sure that he wasn't going to be forced to deep throat. If that happened, then he could just slightly initiate his threat. Still, he continued to lick and suck, bringing his hand to start pumping the part not in his mouth.

Francis closed his eyes, focusing on the pleasure, and not the pain from his back. It was strange how he knew Arthur had done that to him, yet he wasn't angry. He figured it was the power of love.

Arthur bobbed his head a bit before running his tongue along the thick vein underneath. Once he got to the head, he flicked it with the tip of his tongue while looking up at Francis' content face. It had been a while since he gave a blow job other than last night, but it was an apology for hurting him so much. If Alfred or anyone else asked, he would vehemently deny it. Sure he wanted to be in a relationship with Francis, but he didn't want everyone to know lest they got the wrong idea.


	35. Chapter 35

"Are you guys in a relationship or what?" Gilbert asked, looking at the blond Englishman across from him. Francis had suddenly called up him and Antonio, saying they should meet Arthur. So they had showed up, and the Brit acted like he didn't even know Francis.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Arthur defended, crossing his arms and glaring at Francis' 'friends' if one could call them that. There was an easy-going Spaniard and what seemed to be an overly blunt and egotistical German who insisted he was Prussian. In all, he seemed like a European Alfred in his opinion.

Giving a laugh, Francis put his arm around Arthur's shoulder. "Of course we are in a relationship. Would I call you here if we weren't?" Antonio had gotten them to meet Lovino, and Gilbert had gotten them to meet Ludwig, so they always met who they were in relationships with, even when Gilbert insisted he didn't have a brother complex. Well, that wasn't exactly how it went with him. Francis had gone to Ludwig's house for a one night stand when Gilbert was there, and that was how they had met. Obviously, their friendship had a little of a bumpy start.

Antonio clapped his hands together with a smile. "You two are so cute! It's like Lovi and me when he wouldn't admit that we both loved each other more than all the tomatoes in the world~ It's rewarding to be dating, sí?" The Spanish man was happy for his friend to have finally found someone to love as he did, even if they both had an adorable anger problem.

Lifting an eyebrow, Francis laughed. "I said we were in a relationship. I never said we were dating." Because of course he loved Arthur, but just how could he be tied down to one man? That would be such a disaster for the gay community of the world! Sure, he hadn't had sex with another man in... a while, but that didn't mean he _couldn't_!

"How are we not dating? Though there is no way we are in a relationship! Why in the world would someone as sophisticated as me go for someone so low?" Arthur growled, focusing his attention on Francis and completely ignoring how the Spaniard smile was even wider and the silver haired man was smirking.

"We are not dating, because that would mean we were in a monogamous relationship. But we are in a relationship, because that can mean anything." And, as it were, it meant a little more than friends with benefits, because they loved each other. "We are lovers, not dating."

The Prussian lifted an eyebrow. An _awesome_ eyebrow. These two were definitely strange...

Arthur looked at Francis incredulously. "Not monogamous? Are you saying you've been shagging people behind my back?" It _was_ Francis, but it didn't give him any right to contaminate himself while they were dating! "I could have an STD right now and not know about it?"

"How is it behind your back? The only time you act like you even care about me is when we are having sex, and neither of us have said anything about dating!" Francis defended himself, unable to believe that Arthur had thought they were going steady.

"It's because I _don't_ care about you! You are a vile, narcissistic git who only wants sex!" That was why he wanted to actually be dating him; maybe it would get him to calm down. A relationship though was pushing it. Then that meant he was going to be thought of together with Francis, and Arthur didn't want that.

"Yet you want to date me? You are making no sense." How could he deal with this? He sat down on a chair, but his back still hurt a little so he didn't lean back. He had thought that this was accepted by both of them, so he didn't understand why Arthur was complaining so much.

Sighing exasperatedly, Arthur just knitted his eyebrows together in simmering anger. He didn't want to make too bad of an impression on Francis' friends, no matter just how they were his friends in the first place. Sitting down in the only empty chair between Gilbert and Francis, Arthur just stayed silent.

"You are too cute!" Antonio exclaimed happily, wanting desperately to reach over and pinch the Englishman's cheeks. He knew Francis wouldn't like it though, so he resisted.

Leaning over to Arthur, Francis smiled. "I know, isn't he?" He pinched his cheeks, unknowingly carrying out the Spaniard's thoughts. Even if he was annoying and had thought they were going out, he was still cute.

"None of my previous threats have been revoked in case you were going to try that again." Arthur growled, a blush creeping over his face. Why did he insist on embarrassing him so often?

"Threats? Sure. Oh, could you scratch _my back_? Oh wait, that might be a little painful." Any time Arthur was trying to not care, Francis just brought that up and he won the argument. He used to be able to show him his wrists, but those marks had now faded.

His face dropping for a moment, Arthur just huffed. "Say what you will, frog." There was not going to be a single moment that Francis didn't think of a way to bring _that_ up in conversations.

Antonio though was still watching the interaction with glee. So much like his precious Lovi! "What do you think Gilbert?" He asked the German, smiling. "Don't they seem like they are in love?"

"Hm? Oh, love, yeah. Totally." Gilbert said, distracted. He had gotten a hold of Francis' phone and was scrolling down the contacts under the table. Most of them had pictures, and they were mostly pictures of hot guys, so he was adding them to his phone as well.

"So other than to embarrass me, was there a reason why I am here? Because according to you, we couldn't possibly be on a date." Arthur said snobbily, his head turned away from Francis. Did he only want him to meet his friends, or was there some other underlying, perverted reason?

"I always get them to meet who I have fallen in love with." Francis smiled, getting up to grab a glass of water. He offered to get a drink for the others, but they only wanted alcohol, or in the case of Arthur, tea.

Gilbert gave a laugh as he added another number. "Yeah, so far you are the only one he has gotten us to meet."

Torn between wanting to punch Francis' face in so he could complain about that as well or yell back at him that he wasn't in love with him, Arthur went with smacking the back of his head. "We are not 'in love', I have only said I just so happen to like you enough to put up with your nymphomania."

"But there is one part of you that loves me." Francis bent over, face going for Arthur's crotch. "Isn't that right?" He asked it, tickling it as he heard his friends laugh.

Pushing Francis' face away, the Briton desperately tried to ignore the fact that he was blushing like mad. "No part of my anatomy loves you, you prat."

Face falling, Francis looked away. "So you mean... we did all those things... without any feelings? What, I was just a dildo for you? I... How could you? Just take my heart and play with it. How _could_ you?"

Pausing for a second, Arthur grumbled. "Don't you 'how could you?' me. You are the one if I'm not mistaken that is too addicted to sexual encounters that he won't even make an attempt dating me." Arthur didn't want to say 'relationship' because that would mean they had something deeper.

Laughing, the Parisian looked back up. "Alright, you got me. But really, being in love is much more important than dating. I am sure Antonio can attest to that."

"Oh yes, being in love is what keeps Lovi from ripping my arms off when I touch him!" Antonio wasn't going to say anything that would ruin Francis' chance with the emotional blond.

With a grunt of displeasure, Arthur explained. "We are 'going out' so that I know if it is worth my effort to even attempt to _love_ someone like you."

"Well, looking at the extremely large hickey on my neck, I would say you already love me." Francis said, pointing to the spot on his neck that was now turning green, and showed it to Gilbert and Antonio.

Blushing a deeper shade of red, Arthur ignored Gilbert's obnoxious laugh as he stood up. "If all you brought me here for was to brag to your... _Friends_, then I will be excusing myself." Without a second glance at Francis, the Briton was out of the building, waiting for a cab. Why did he have to be so infuriating?

Sitting back, Francis gave an exaggerated sigh. "He can be so touchy." He said, laughing. He wasn't going to chase after him, because he knew that Arthur wasn't actually angry at him, so it would be fine.

"You're just going to leave your cute little Englishman to roam the big bad streets of New York?" Antonio asked with a smile despite his words. He knew that Francis had a way with people, and that Arthur couldn't stay away for long despite his 'anger'. All he did know was if that was Lovi, he would have followed him out.

"Like anyone would want to have to put up with his complaining long enough to rape him." It was bad enough even when it was consensual!

Meanwhile, Arthur had already gotten into a taxi and was grinding his teeth while muttering under his breath. Just because in the heat of the moment he gave Francis a hickey, didn't mean he could go around showing it off! When they had sex the first time, he didn't brag about how his arse hurt! Not to mention he continually used the state of his back against the Englishman whenever possible. If only he could care less about it, then it wouldn't bother him so much but as it was, he was enraged.

When the cab stopped, he payed the driver and got out, quickly making his way through the building until he reached the door that was just as recognizable to him as his own over the last few months. "Stop fornicating your relationship and let me in Alfred." He yelled through the door. Sure he wasn't able to talk about his own sex life, but Alfred's was fair game.

Leaving the bedroom, Al looked back. "It's just Arthur, who cares if I'm only in my underwear?" He asked, making his way to the door. The Brit was lucky he had come when he did, or else he would have answered the door _completely_ naked.

When the door opened to reveal a scarcely clad Alfred, the Briton just rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the apartment. "I knew I would have probably interrupted you, but the least you could do would be to put on some bloody clothes. I seriously doubt that I needed to see you like this."

"But I'm so sexy." He still had feelings for Arthur, but now Alfred could act like he always used to. It was kind of a scale, where the more he cared for Matthew, the less he loved Arthur. "Matt, I'll be there in a sec, so no jerking off. What do you want, Arthur? I'm busy."

His forehead twitching slightly, Arthur knew that he shouldn't have intruded but also couldn't care less. "I _was_ going to see how you were and actually try to be a friend to you since you made me move out to this hell hole, but now I'm changing my mind. Have fun shagging poor Matthew."

Alfred was about to say something to stop him, but shrugged as he left. He went back into the room, already shedding his underwear.

Not wanting to hear or see anything more, Arthur quickly made his way out of the apartment building. So much for having some one to be able to talk to. Ever since he and the nice Canadian got together, it was like they were constantly in the bedroom whenever he would phone. It wasn't like he could go back to Francis because it would essentially be grovelling at his feet for forgiveness. Getting another cab, Arthur went home and brewed himself a calming pot of tea. It seemed like his last time to enjoy the sweet liquid had been forever ago, but he knew it wasn't the case.

* * *

So this was basically a chapter making Arthur hate his life... but he's such a wet blanket it doesn't take much. Just to let everyone know, Francis hadn't planned that as showing off to his friends, he seriously wanted to get them to meet Arthur, because he subconsciously knows he wants to be with him for a very long time.


	36. Chapter 36

Hitting the button repeatedly, Francis couldn't wait for the elevator. It was too slow. Way too slow. Why was it so slow?

Finally the metallic doors opened, and he stepped inside, pushing the button to close the doors. Did that really work? Or was it just a button to press to pass the time. Because no matter how many times he pushed it, the doors wouldn't close any faster. Eventually he got out and to the door he wanted. "Arthur! Open up, quick!" He pounded on it, knowing that this stupid piece of wood was the only thing between him and the inside of this apartment.

Hearing Francis all but have a conniption fit on his door, the Englishman was glad he hadn't just taken off his clothes for a shower as he went to the door. "Why should I let you inside?" He yelled back through the door. Arthur looked through the peephole but all he could see was Francis' face.

"Because it's Valentines!" _And I have a boner_ was the unsaid part of his reason. Dammit, he was about to kick this door in! His fist kept knocking on the wood, not letting up until Arthur would open the door.

"All the more reason to leave you out there; _and_ _would you please stop trying to knock down my door!_" If he made any more racket, his neighbours would surely complain and he didn't want to deal with it.

"Let me in! Or I tell everyone what we do in our spare time!" He couldn't stand it much longer! He needed to be on the other side of this door, or else hell would break lose, and he wouldn't be held responsible! Why couldn't he have just waited till he got here to start his plan?

"You tell everyone anyways!" Still, Arthur opened his door in a hurry, undoing the chain and unlocking the door for Francis to come in. He didn't really want to see him after seeing him at work showing off his yellowing hickey, but he didn't want him to open his big mouth. "What has you so insistent?"

As soon as the door was open, he surged forward, attacking Arthur's lips. Francis reached behind himself to slam the door closed. Pressing his needy erection into the Brit's crotch, he pulled back slightly. "Red bull and Viagra."

Blushing as he was all but molested, Arthur groaned. "You didn't! What the bloody hell were you thinking? You could have a heart attack!" That wouldn't be his fault then, and he surely wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction on valentines day.

"Well then we should have sex before I die." Francis said before latching onto his neck and with deft hands went right for Arthur's pants. He didn't have time for waiting around, he needed to be inside him NOW.

Squirming away from the embrace, Arthur tried to get the hands out of his trousers but to no avail. "You _will _die if you have sex right now!" It was _that_ day and Arthur had hoped that he could spend it locked inside his apartment, oblivious to the shenanigans the rest of the world was getting up to.

"But I love you and it's valentines and I'm horny and if I don't have sex right now I will have to find someone else, even if I don't want to." He continued trying to undress him, pinning him to the wall and kissing him deeper.

Torn between wanting to push Francis away and wanting to push them closer, Arthur growled deep in his throat. With the Frenchman being so needy it was turning him on more than he would have hoped. But, maybe he could use that to his advantage. "Beg me and I'll never ask to be top again."

Francis couldn't even think right, because he didn't even care. "Fine. Please s'il vous plaît, god Arthur let me fuck you." He didn't care anymore, he just needed sex, right here right now. He started taking off his pants, releasing his need.

Arthur let out an unconscious moan as Francis pleas travelled straight to his cock. Watching as the other man took of his pants to release his already straining prick, Arthur couldn't help as another needy sound bubbled from his lips. "Francis... You're an idiot."

"Just turn around." There was no time to get to the bed, and hardly enough time to prepare him. Francis really should have called ahead and told Arthur to get the lube and stretch himself so they wouldn't have to wait so long.

"I'm not going to turn around so you can shag me against the door!" The hand on his cock made him moan despite his words. It was like the air itself was charged with his lust and was turning Arthur on as well.

"Fine against the wall then." Francis panted, close to forcefully moving him. This was still taking too long! He wasn't sure how long the red bull was going to last, but he didn't want to take any chances. Besides, he had drank about three.

Groaning, Arthur just pushed Francis' hands off his lower half and turned around. It wasn't fault being molested while Francis was so needy was hot. Bracing himself against the door, Arthur looked back at him; completely at a loss as to why he was acting this way. "So are you going to shag me or what?"

Giving a low groan, Francis covered the distance and pressed their bodies together. He wrapped his arms around his body, quickly unfastening his pants and pulling them down to his ankles. Then he placed his fingers in front of Arthur's face, wiggling them slightly. "Suck."

Arthur felt the other's erection grind against the cleft of his arse as his mouth opened for the fingers. Already he was sweating and getting insanely hard as his tongue ran over the digits in his mouth, coating them in saliva. How did this end up happening? Normally he would have just locked Francis somewhere that he couldn't get to him or kicked him out. What made this time different enough to let himself be fucked against his door?

Taking his fingers out, Francis replaced them at Arthur's hole, putting two in at once. He should be glad he got this much, because really his cock felt like it was dying and even the air moving around it felt pleasurable. But not nearly as pleasurable as being in this tight ass would be.

Putting his forehead against the door as well, Arthur bit his lip at the pain of being stretched so quickly. "If I bleed I won't forgive you." Really, he had to go back to work when the weekend was over, and he didn't want to stand the whole day. Already everything was going so fast which felt strange since they had barely spoken at work other than when Francis wanted to show off his bite mark or give him food.

"You made me bleed." He said quickly, thrusting his fingers in and out with vigour. He was hyper, and couldn't seem to stop moving. He started kissing his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. So what if they weren't completely naked, this was still going to have to happen.

Arthur's fingernails dug into the door slightly at the pain. "That was different. I didn't show up at your house with a raging boner and demanding sex." Well, he actually confessed that he liked the Frenchman, but it was still much different than demanding sex.

"You could have refused. I would have just had my Valentine's day with someone else." Really, he wasn't sure he would have made it out the building before grabbing someone and getting them to have sex with him in some dark room. He added a third finger, almost done with the stretching.

Gritting his teeth Arthur spread his legs wider. "Like you would." It wasn't like Arthur could deny Francis when he was so turned on. If he was just demanding sex he could, but it made it so much better that it was spontaneous. Wait, did he just think that? It was now obvious that he had been around Francis for much too long.

Taking his fingers out, Francis grabbed himself and placed his cock at the entrance. "Be glad I lasted this far." He said before pushing in, feeling the contracting walls around him. His hands went immediately to Arthur's erection, trying to sooth the pain.

Yelling out for a second from the pain, Arthur braced himself even more against the door as Francis pushed in deeply. Even the hand on his erection couldn't help distract from the burn. "You... Wanker..." He hissed through his teeth.

Finally he was inside! Francis gave a sigh of relief, after going so long with an erection and not having anything around it. He didn't move much, though, not wanting to hurt Arthur more than he had to. He wasn't bleeding now, so if he went slow he shouldn't bleed.

"How long ago did you take it..." He grumbled out, not wanting Francis to move too fast, but wanting there to be at least a bit of friction. With just how rushed he was before Arthur wanted to know just how long he tortured himself by taking Red Bull and Viagra. Was the man a complete idiot? It wasn't like he needed either, never mind together. He was surprised that he could even talk without it coming out as a garbled mess. Or French.

"About twenty minutes ago." He panted, slowly pulling out so only his head was still inside. He let out a breath, the caffeine from the red bull making him want to slam back in as fast as he could.

Taking a breath in as he pulled out, Arthur's voice quavered as he growled. "Brainless git..." If he died, then it would be all his fault. Arthur didn't tell him to do something so idiotic, so it wasn't _his _fault.

As the tightness around his cock slowly became less, and it stopped feeling like he was going to be broken in half, Francis started going faster. It felt really good, because he felt that he was even harder than normal.

Once again, Arthur just made a strangled sound as the Frenchman started to go faster. It felt amazing but he would never say it. If Arthur gave him the satisfaction of knowing that, then he could try and get him to have sex in other unpractical places.

His head falling forward, Francis once again sucked lightly on Arthur's neck, careful not to make a lasting hickey. One of his hands started travelling up his shirt, picking at hardened nipples, while the other continued on his cock. "Happy Valentines day."

"Shut the bloody hell up." Arthur winced, still unable to think much further away from his prick that was being stroked and his hole that was being filled. He could tell that Francis' whole body was as tense as a bow string from the energy drink plus he was harder than normal from the Viagra.

Francis smiled as he thrust hard into him, obviously hitting his sweet spot by the moan that escaped. He kept up the now-fast pace, feeling the need to cum welling up inside him. He needed to release, because he had been hard like this for almost half an hour already.

Moaning again as his body was wracked with pleasure, Arthur's knees almost buckled as his prostate was thrust into again. It would have been better to do this facing each other, but the Briton didn't want to give Francis the satisfaction of seeing just how much he could affect him.

"Arthur... call my name... when you cum..." Francis put one of his hands on the door for support, feeling it move slightly from the hard thrusts. He was surprised no one was knocking on the door to complain, but it was really a good thing, considering.

"Tch..." Arthur grunted, his face bright red and his legs feeling weak. "You c-_aaah!-_an't make me." It hadn't been more than a minute and he was already feeling like he was going to cum both from the prick up his arse and the hand on his own throbbing one.

No, he couldn't make him, but he _could_ make him want to. Francis squeezed the head of his erection, his thumb rubbing over the slit. He really couldn't imagine wanting to do this with anyone else on this day, and he remembered his other Valentines always felt so hollow.

Arthur let out another loud moan, his climax seconds away. He could feel the weight pooling in his abdomen as he tried to hold on to it before he exploded. Without thinking or realizing it, he yelled out Francis' name as ordered before his hot seed was shooting out of his prick onto the Parisian's hand with a few drops on his door.

His own shaft being squeezed, Francis felt his own orgasm making it's way through his body. He didn't know if it was the Red Bull or the Viagra that made it feel different, but something did it, and as he filled Arthur with his seed, he also moaned out the Brit's name.

Collapsing against the door, Arthur would have slid to the floor if it weren't for Francis' shaft still inside him. "Pull out you frog. I can barely stand." The only thing was that it didn't feel as if it was softening. If anything, it was still as hard as when they started...

"Well, we can go to the bed, but I am not going to pull out." Francis said, because they weren't going to be done for a while.

* * *

So... this is the second last chapter... *hides from things being thrown* Please don't hate us! It had to end some time...


	37. Chapter 37

Falling onto the bed in exhaustion, Arthur grunted as Francis fell on top of him after he climaxed as well. "You better... Be... Done..." He panted, his entire body tired by now. Having sex eight times in a row would do that to a person.

With no response, he tried pushing him off his back. "Get off... You're too heavy frog." After all that, he wasn't about to let the other sleep on top of him. Just because he magically had enough endurance to have this much sex didn't mean they should. Whoever sold the Frenchman Viagra and an energy drink should be cursed.

When Francis still didn't move, Arthur turned his head to see him sleeping. "Bloody hell! You make me stay up to have sex but when you're done you can just sleep? I don't think so!" Using his anger to give him energy, Arthur pushed Francis right off him. He was still hard even as he slept, showing that he only collapsed because he was tired, not because he was done.

"Wake up frog and clean us off. I'm too tired and sore to do it." When he didn't respond, he just shook his shoulders. "Wake up wanker." Francis continued to be unresponsive, which was starting to make Arthur nervous. "Francis, wake up."

It wasn't until he was shaking the other man so hard that his brains were ratting inside his head that the Briton started to freak out. What the bloody hell happened? Did he actually have a heart attack? He was just kidding about that happening, he didn't want it to become reality!

Getting off the bed, Arthur grabbed the nearest phone and pressed the three buttons quickly. "Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance. My... friend just passed out and I think he might of had a heart attack. Yes... Well, I guess he's on medicine..." Blushing deeply despite the situation, Arthur just gave them his address before hanging up. Now to try and make their activities not as apparent.

Cleaning up the room and themselves, Arthur forced a pair of his pyjama pants on Francis' otherwise naked body. His erection was still apparent, but that couldn't be helped. Putting on some clothes himself, he could hear the wails of the sirens as they got to the apartment building.

Arthur opened the door just in time for the paramedics to push a gurney down the hallway. "He just collapsed a few minutes ago." He explained to the emergency personnel in a rush. Pointing to his room, he hoped to God that they wouldn't see the evidence of what they were doing, other than the Frenchman's obvious erection. The only thing keeping him standing at this point was the adrenaline from being so nervous.

Heading to the room, the paramedics tried not to see the white stains on the sheets and the fading marks on the man's neck that had opened the door. Their job was saving lives, not scrutinizing them. "Is he allergic to anything? On any medication?"

"Er... Well... Nothing for a sickness..." Arthur answered, rubbing the back of his neck. It was awkward enough that Francis had taken the things he did, never mind having to tell other's about it.

As one of the men went to check vitals, the other stayed with Arthur to ask important questions. "What medication was he on?" They needed to know, because it could be any number of things. They couldn't give him anything until they knew, for fear of triggering a reaction.

Looking to the ground, he knew he was going to have to tell them so that Francis wouldn't die and it wouldn't be his fault if he did. "I'm not positive... But... He said... ViagraandRedBull." He mumbled together. This must look so incriminating! It was Valentines day and it was still quite obvious what they were doing despite all his measures to make sure it wasn't.

The paramedic nodded in understanding. "So, I guess I don't need to ask what he was doing when he collapsed." He said before helping his partner lift the unconscious man onto the gurney. They started making their way to the door. "If you would come with us, that would probably be best."

Nodding, Arthur locked his door quickly before they got into the elevator. It was extremely embarrassing since it was quite obvious what they had been doing, and he could feel them looking at him in disgust. Plus, it was hard not to look down at Francis and feel somewhat bad, though it was tinged with anger. How dare he do this to himself!

They got down to the ambulance and put the unconscious man inside. All three crowded in, the paramedics hooking up an IV. The sirens were heard, and they started speeding towards the hospital. They kept asking questions, making sure the situation didn't get worse.

It wasn't until they were in the hospital's emergency room that Arthur allowed himself not to stare worriedly at Francis' face. His erection was still quite noticeable, but there was nothing he could do lest he cut it off. "What are you doing?" He asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn't die. If he did, then Arthur would always have it on his conscience, even if he hated the slimy git.

"Just checking his blood pressure. He seems stable." A nurse came in, followed by a doctor to take over for the two men, so they could go back to the ambulance. "He took Viagra and red bull, then collapsed." They said before leaving.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur forced himself not to get upset. If he were to yell here, it would be insulting to his name as a gentleman. Not to mention that everyone under the bright florescent lights could see and hear him.

The doctors continued what the paramedics had been doing, only glancing at Arthur. Soon they felt it was safe enough to leave him, because they figured nothing would happen. "He probably will wake up in about an hour or less, and be fine."

Nodding, Arthur asked. "Is there a room open?" It would be better for when he woke up so that Arthur could yell at him in there. Plus, he didn't want everyone looking at them as if they knew what happened, even if it was what happened.

The nurse pushed the bed Francis was on, heading to a private room. She figured it would be best, considering what was obviously going on between the two... gentlemen.

As they made their way to a room, Arthur couldn't help but glare at every red paper heart and sickly pink decoration as they walked through the halls. What was so special about such a holiday? After all, it was named after a man who was stoned to death.

Once the nurse had them both settled in the new room, she left them alone, not wanting to get between them. She would have to tell her friends about this later, they would be so happy!

Standing over Francis' bed, the Englishman just stared down at his unconscious form. What was his problem! Arthur told him he would probably have a heart attack from taking the 'medicine' never mind also having sex, but did he listen? No, he didn't. The git.

He could only stand a minute of looking down at him before he started to pace in the small room. When he woke up, not only would he verbally give him a piece of his mind, but maybe a few punches would help drill it through his thick French skull. Although, there was no way he would leave him alone. As soon as he was awake, he wanted the first thing for him to see to be his angry face. He deserved it after all for making him worry.

The next forty minutes were the longest of his life as Arthur impatiently waited for Francis to open his eyes. By now, his erection had mostly gone down, but it was still noticeable enough to make him blush. Even more so when a nurse would come in to make sure he was still ok.

It wasn't until he was sitting beside his bed with his head on it that he jolted up as Francis started waking up. There was a small part of him that was telling him everything _wouldn't_ be alright and that the stupid Frenchman was going to die before he admitted that he actually held some feelings for him, but now it was ok. "Francis?"

Knowing that he was no longer on Arthur's bed, Francis didn't open his eyes when he heard the timid, worried voice. He felt groggy at best, so he thought it would be better to keep his eyes closed, knowing the light would hurt them. Slowly his mouth turned up into a grin. "Best... Valentines... day... ever."

A moment of elation coursed through Arthur's body before being replaced with anger. "You inconsiderate git! You slimy, wine faced frog! I _told_ you that doing that was a bad idea!" Hitting his fists against the bed, his eyes were squeezed shut so that he wouldn't have to look at him or be able to cry.

Finally opening his eyes, Francis squinted through the blinding light, looking for Arthur. He wasn't quite sure why he was in a hospital, but no matter. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You better be sorry! If you died, how would I explain it? I couldn't tell them you died having sex with me! Even the paramedics were disgusted! It's all your bloody fault!" Glaring at Francis with moist eyes, Arthur just buried his face into the bed again. Why did he have to be so affected by him?

"Aw, mon petit chou, don't cry. I am here, am I not?" He slowly lifted his hand, grabbing Arthur's and lacing their fingers together. All in all, this day was so worth going to the hospital.

Ripping his hand away angrily, Arthur grumbled into the bed. "That's the problem." Just how was he supposed to let Francis know just how much his heart hurt when he thought he might die? He didn't care. He didn't want to care, but he did.

Giving a small sigh, Francis put his arm back under the covers, the needle from the IV feeling strange. "Well, I am tired, so I shall go back to sleep." He wondered why he was tired if he had just been unconscious, but didn't think too much about it. "I love you."

Looking back at Francis as he shut his eyes, Arthur reached his hand forward hesitantly. Giving in, he reached under the covers and grabbed Francis' hand again and squeezed it. "You git... I love you too."

* * *

Ah, the end. Well, we hope everyone got what they wanted! Francis has practically stopped seeing other people, and Arthur actually admitted that he loved Francis! And sorry if the whole passing out thing may not be what actually happens, but it just had to happen. Well, maybe people who take Viagra and Red Bull _do_ pass out. Not sure, cause we have never done it lol. Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
